The Possibility of Ways
by kitsunealyc
Summary: In an infinite Universe nothing is set and everything is possible, but in choosing an alternate route there are always repercussions. a NineRose AU fic for S2
1. Departures

Author's Notes & Apologia:

This goes AU from the end of TPoW. The idea started with the question that has always really bothered me. How is it that Rose (who had the Time Vortex in her for a long while a did a lot with it) could survive the experience, while the Ninth Doctor is sent into his next regeneration? Makes no sense. So in this fic I'm writing the version of the second season that I would have liked to have seen if we had gotten to keep Christopher Eccleston. I like David Tennant's Doctor well enough, but I don't think he and Billie Piper have half the chemistry that Eccleston and she did. This fic takes place in the gaps and cracks of Season Two, assuming that it was a Ninth Doctor season (in other words, I will not be rewriting the episodes word for word). It's all prequel for the real fic I want to write, which deals with the conclusion of S2 (but gives me a Nine/Rose pairing, rather than Ten/Rose, yay!).

Also, I originally tried writing this in dialect, and it was painful to read all the 'fings and 'finks coming out of Rose's mouth, so I changed it to standard and hoped the patterns of the speech would be enough, rather than forcing people to slog through East End and Northern patois spelling.

All that being said, I own nothing (including, apparently, anything approaching writerly integrity or respect for what has gone before!), but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

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The Possibility of Ways 

"_Alice laughed: 'There's no use trying,' she said; 'one can't believe impossible things.'_

_  
'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.' "_

– _Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland_

_--------------------------------_

Prologue – Departures 

He pulled away from her, his being filled with the infinite possibilities of the Time Vortex. The TARDIS' voice was stronger than ever in his head, a haunting, lyrical music that called him onwards – never still, always seeking, restless, wandering. Rose's body sagged in his arms, and the part of him that still stood on Floor 500 of the Game Station lowered her gently to the deck. The rest of him was already schisming throughout time in a way far greater than he'd ever experienced. He shielded his mind against it, forcing himself not to look. No one was meant to know this. Centuries of Time Lord instructions and strictures, which he'd often railed against in the past, now helped to bolster him. He narrowed his focus, shutting out his awareness of the vistas of time and space, concentrating on the Self/Not Self that was Rose Tyler.

Her cells were decaying rapidly, an entropic acceleration caused by holding infinity in the palm of her hand. He felt himself momentarily distracted as another someone, somewhen, somewhere thought the same phrase. He listened in wonder as it began rippling out from that point, echoing like windchimes, shattering like falling glass towards the entropic pull that gave time directionality. He pulled back from the temptation to follow the spreading network of moments connected by that phrase. _The world in a grain of sand, indeed_. He could meditate on Blake later.

Reaching down into Rose with the tiniest part of his being that was Here and not Elsewhere, he halted the acceleration and reversed the decay. _Just resetting the clock, so to speak. Hickory, dickory, dock._ Again he felt entropy's tug towards eternity, but it was easier to resist this time. He wasn't much interested in Mother Goose.

_And thinking of silly geese, time to take care of the gander._ He reached into Self and made the same shift. Certainly, there were regenerations to explore, but there was no need to rush in. He was The Doctor, not The Fool. Maintaining that cellular equilibrium, he began exhaling, releasing the Vortex to his beautiful TARDIS, letting her take it from him and guide it back into Creation, the only vessel that could safely and properly contain it. He stumbled slightly as the last bits left him, the bits that he had used for his slight adjustments. Then the TARDIS' console was closed, her heart hidden and protected. The blueish light of Floor 500 seemed even more dim and murky in the absence of the golden Vortex.

Bending down, he gently scooped up Rose. His silly girl, his clever ape. His Rose, by any other name. He could still taste her lips on his. He shoved that thought back into the guarded recesses of his mind, along with Blake and Mother Goose. It was a then thing. Best not to think about it now.

Carrying her into the TARDIS, he deposited her on the floor beside the console, then feverishly began working the controls. Already he could feel the after-effects of the Vortex, those final moments when he'd had to let go and couldn't quite shield himself with it. He didn't think he'd die, but he'd be in for a bumpy ride over the next little while. He needed to get them moving to somewhere safe (well, safe-ish…he couldn't remember the last time his girl had landed him somewhere safe) before he became completely useless.

Rose was awakening as the TARDIS began her strange, asthmatic whirring. He saw his companion blinking away her confusion.

"What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" He maintained his normal demeanor of manic cheeriness, but he was honestly curious how much of the experience her fragile, human mind had been able to retain. She began to sit up, narrowing her eyes as she tried to access the memories.

"It's like…there was this singing…"

"That's right," he responded jauntily, "I sang a song and the Daleks ran away."

"I was at home," she continued, not willing to let him divert her from trying to recover the memories, "No, I was in the TARDIS. There was this light," she glanced around, as if recollection could be found amongst the curved amber walls of his ship. She shook her head, "I can't remember anything else."

"Rose Tyler," he turned away from the TARDIS' console, suddenly serious. He could feel the ravages of the last bits of the Time Vortex, feel his body fighting back. He knew that one way or another the next few days were going to be a dodgy prospect, and he had to prepare her to be strong.

"It was you. You took the Time Vortex into yourself and you stopped the Daleks. Destroyed them. Atomized them, really. You were fantastic," his sudden grin was as wide as anything, and despite her obvious confusion and growing worry she smiled back shyly, "But it was killing you. No one's meant to take that kind of power into themselves, not even a Time Lord," his face and voice were tightening from the pain that was welling up inside his body, "I took it from you. Fixed you. Fixed me too, mostly, before I released it."

"I don't remember any of it," her voice was small, frightened. She stood and leaned against one of the TARDIS' supports.

"No, you wouldn't. Better if you don't try to remember, really," he grimaced and wrapped long arms around his middle, doubling over in pain.

"Doctor? Doctor, what's wrong?" she hurried over to him, self-concern replaced with worry for him. He tried to straighten and smile away her worries.

"Don't worry about me, Rose. This old body of mine can take quite a beating before it gives up. But," he closed his eyes and gave up trying to soften what was to come, "I'm in for a rough time of it for the next few days, until I can heal from the Vortex. And so are you. What you did, what we both did…that kind of thing causes ripples, creates other problems. It's basic physics, that energy is never destroyed, just transformed. It's going to come back to haunt us for some time. I've set the TARDIS to take us somewhere safe, but…" his voice faded as the pain began to overwhelm him.

"Shh…it's alright, Doctor. We can handle it. We can handle anything," they were both kneeling now, next to the console. Rose's arms circled loosely around his shoulders, ready to support him.

"I hope you're right," he gave up trying to be strong for her and let himself collapse into her arms with a final gasp, "Happy Christmas, Rose."


	2. The Twelfth Day

**Chapter 1 – The Twelfth Day**

It had been an eventful Christmas, to say the least.

Rose idly twisted back and forth on one of the swings in a deserted playground near Powell Estates. Snow – real snow this time, not the macabre ash that had drifted from the sky on Christmas – crunched beneath the soles of her wellies. It was a weekday, and the cold plus the start of the school term meant that she had the playground to herself. The quiet solitude was a welcome break after the never-ending revolving door of her mum's flat. It was the first time she'd managed to get away on her own since arriving.

The Doctor had been notably absent since Boxing Day, mostly puttering around under the TARDIS' console. He claimed that he was fixing the damage she'd done during her "Monster Truck Rally business", but she had a feeling that he was still weaker than he let on. Every so often she saw a bit of strain in his eyes, a slight hitch in his gait. She wondered if this was the reason he hadn't moved on yet, and not the mysterious knocking sound he supposedly could hear coming from the TARDIS' inner workings. Given how her mum had taken to cosseting and scolding him by turns, and how he seemed too distracted to tell her off, he **must** still be feeling poorly.

Of course, given how her mum had been nagging at her, and the doleful glances that Mickey kept shooting her way, Rose was tempted to move back into her room on the TARDIS herself, just for some peace and quiet. She was starting to understand why the Doctor didn't do domestic.

She didn't move back, though. In fact, she had been surreptitiously avoiding the Doctor. Through all the excitement of the Sycorax invasion, the holidays, and the Doctor's illness, they had avoided talking about what she'd done, about what had happened on Satellite Five. She couldn't forget his ominous words afterwards in the TARDIS, just before he'd collapsed. She couldn't forget his accusation that she had caused some kind of ripple in time, and that events would come back to haunt them. Perhaps he had only meant the Sycorax invasion, though given her experiences since meeting him she rather thought that was getting of lightly. But it was less the possible repercussions and more his potential anger that made her hesitant. She remembered how livid he'd been over the Reaper incident with her Dad. She had seen his fury and coldly delivered retribution after Harriet Jones' annihilation of the Sycorax. That was what had her worried, and why she was avoiding the Doctor.

She had messed with Time, as she'd promised him she would never do again, and she'd done so to commit genocide – even if she didn't remember it, even if it was just the Daleks who were destroyed. She wondered more and more if the Doctor was really dithering because he still felt poorly, or if he was just waiting until after the holidays to tell her that he preferred wallowing in his own loneliness to traveling with a cock-up like her.

Today was Twelfth Night, the last day of the holidays. It was the day the decorations came down and life returned to normal for another year. She was hiding in the cold at the park because she feared the time was drawing near when her own holiday of the past year would be over, when the Doctor would abandon her to a life of dreaded normalcy.

As if called by her thoughts, she heard a shout in a Northern accent that was increasingly dear to her.

"Oy! What are you doing out here? Do you want to catch your death?" A look of sudden, comic horror crossed his features, "Bugger it. I'm starting to sound like Jackie. The things I go through for you."

Rose smiled wanly in response as he strode over and sat in the swing next to her. She thought he must be freezing in nothing but a jumper and his beat-up leather jacket, but he didn't seem to be minding the cold any. She continued to twist about in the swing, studiously avoiding his sharp gaze. It was obvious he had sought her out for a reason, but if it was the reason she feared, she wasn't going to give him any help with it.

"So…holidays almost over," he finally began in the disturbingly upbeat way he had when he was making small talk to avoid an uncomfortable issue. She sighed. Yup. This was it.

"Yeah, just about."

"I think I've got the TARDIS back into running shape," the cheer was fast fading from his voice.

"Mysterious knocks all out then?" her own cheer was forced, "I knew you could do it."

"Means it's about time I moved on." And there it was. He'd said 'I'. She choked down the tightness in her throat and stood, turning to face him with tears in her eyes.

"Look, Doctor. I'm sorry. I'm **so** sorry I mucked about with Time again, and about the Daleks and everything. But please, let me…If you just take me with you, I'll do everything I can to make it right. Please, let me try to make it right. Don't leave me here. Don't leave me," she knew she must look a fright. She wasn't a pretty crier, nose all red and runny and face twisted in a grimace. She sucked in cold air and tried to compose herself. He'd never consider letting her stay on if she turned into a blubbering widgeon.

"Leave you?" His blue eyes were wide with surprise, "What on Earth would I do a thing like that for? Did you think I was going to…Is **that** why you've been lurking about like a mouse with its tail on fire?" he made a tetching noise and stood, grasping her shoulders and shaking her slightly, his tone direct and earnest, "I've no intention of leaving you, Rose Tyler. If I had, I would have done already."

"You…you're sure?" she ventured, "We've stayed here so long, I was sure you were trying to figure out how to get rid of me."

"I stayed so long because I though it was what you wanted, all this Ho-la-la-la-la-liday cheer with your mum, and Ricky mooning at you from beneath the mistletoe. I told you at the start of it that this was your Christmas present."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember in the TARDIS? I wished you Happy Christmas."

"You were practically unconscious," her look was incredulous. He still had his hands on her shoulders, and she was beginning to feel the usual odd tension about their closeness. She raised a hand to blot away her tears, dislodging his hold in the process, "I didn't think you knew what you were saying."

He crossed his arms, "I'm offended. I always know what I'm saying," she regarded him for a moment, then decided that now was as good a time as any to clear the air between them, especially since it seemed like he wasn't terribly angry about what she'd done.

"Then…about the other things you said in the TARDIS…"

"What about them? Is **that** what's twisting your knickers? Well, I suppose we should talk about it, but do you mind if we do it somewhere warmer? I'm freezing," she raked a glance over his usual ensemble and raised one brow. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, "What?"

"You come out like that, and then complain about freezing? I'm just thinking that maybe your fashion-for-all-seasons wardrobe could do with a bit of tinkering."

He adjusted the lapels of his coat proudly, "I like the sleek look, me. Now c'mon. There's a chips shop 'round the corner," he held out his hand to her, and she took it in giddy relief as they made their way from the playground. Whatever threats loomed, the Doctor was still **her** Doctor. All was right with the world.


	3. Intro to Physics

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

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**Chapter 2 – Intro to Physics**

"Imagine that time is like a wet-willy."

They were sitting in the nearby shop, several orders of fish and chips laying in greasy decimation on the table before them. The Doctor had taken up a handful of serviettes and twisted them into a vaguely torus-like shape, which he now held up before her. She blinked in confusion at his sudden shift in topic.

"A what?"

"You know, wet-willy, balloony tube thing filled with goo, you hold it too hard and it slips your grasp? Try to keep up," his look was textbook 'Doctor-being-impatient-with-mentally-dim-life-form'. She rolled her eyes, which he ignored to continue, "So…time…wet-willy."

"Are you sure it's called a wet-willy?" she asked.

"Yeah. What else would it be called?"

"I don't know. But I think you're wrong. I think a wet-willy's when you lick your finger and stick it in someone's ear."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he might be all Time-Lordy, but this mentally-dim-ape obviously knew more about juvenile pranks than he did. She took great pleasure in flashing him a superior grin, "my mate Shireen's got an older brother. Right tosser he is, too. Used to do it to us all the time. I'll tell you, I'm not missing him."

"Well, then. What's this thing called?" he shook the napkin-torus for emphasis, "Is it a silly-willy?"

"Nah, that's a penguin."

"Oh," the Doctor considered this a moment, then shook his head and got back down to explaining, "Well then, imagine that time is a wet-willy that isn't a wet-willy. It's got gravity pulling at it from one direction, and the pressure of your hand squeezing it from t'other. Turn it sideways and you can make it stay still. Change the pressure of your hand and you can even make it move backwards and forwards – that's where the TARDIS comes in for us, by the way – but ultimately, the natural inclination is to move down and away, and the more you try to stop it, the more likely it is to just accelerate," he tried to demonstrate with the twisted wad in his hand, but being serviettes they were woefully inadequate to the task. He glared at them in exasperation.

"Right," she shook her head, verbally jostling him back on track, "so, how exactly is time like this not-a-wet-willy?"

"Well, it's got Creation pushing at it from one end, and Entropy pulling at it from t'other, like your hand and gravity on the wet-willy. That's why what you did in Satellite Five was killing you. What you did, with the Time Vortex, it was like squeezing the willy. Accelerating time towards Entropy," he stopped for a moment, a look of deep revelation crossing his features, "I suppose that's how time isn't like a wet-willy. Squeezing a wet-willy too hard doesn't end all of existence."

"Wait a bit…I thought you said it was killing me. When did ending all of existence come into it?"

"Rose, you destroyed the Dalek fleet. You scattered a concept through time and space," at her confused look, he clarified, "Bad Wolf. That was you sending a message to yourself. I'm fairly certain you brought Jack back to life—"

"I did what? I just…just assumed he was killed during—" she paused as shocked comprehension dawned, "And you just **left** him?!"

"Yes, I did. Because we'd already mucked with things enough. Bringing him with us, after you brought him back, it would have concentrated even more of that ripple energy on us. It would have made things much worse."

She was appalled that he could leave Jack behind so easily. It brought back all the questions and worries that she thought were placated through the conversation in the park.

"So, why didn't you leave me then," she couldn't quite keep the accusatory anger from her tone, "if it would make things so much easier, why didn't you just leave me there?"

"Oh, stop being daft. I thought we were past this," he slammed the forgotten napkin-torus to the table and fixed her with his intense gaze, "I'm not leaving you Rose. I may send you away for your own good – not that it'll work any – but I won't abandon you. Not ever."

"What about Harriet Jones?"

"What? What's she got to do with this?" It was his turn to be thrown off by a non-sequitor. He pulled back in honest confusion, fist still clenched around the increasingly dilapidated crumple of tissue.

"You and she…you were getting on so…and then she went and destroyed the Sycorax, and you just turned on her like it was nothing."

"That's different," he defended, "The Sycorax were…the Daleks are—"

"Oh, I know it's different," she waved away this distinction, "but it's only by degrees, innit? I'm asking you this, Doctor. What makes what I did right and what Harriet Jones did wrong?"

"The Sycorax were **leaving**, Rose. The Daleks never would have done. Sure, the Sycorax might have come back, or told some other species about Earth. We'll never know, will we? You can't do something like what Harriet Jones did based on what people **might** do. Time is too fluid. People are too changeable. The Daleks were going to destroy the Earth. Bugger that, they were doing…had been for ages. That's the difference. Everyone deserves a second chance," he waited until she nodded her acceptance of his distinction, then he continued, his expression darkening, "besides, I don't know that Harriet Jones was entirely responsible for her action."

"What?"

"Oh, I mean, the choice was hers and she's responsible for that. But there's something strange about the capacity she had to do it. Did you happen to overhear the name of the group she gave the go ahead to?"

Rose struggled with recollection, "Torchwood, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Ever heard of them before?"

"No."

"Neither have I," his tone was ominous, "not in all of history. Never heard of them. So how did they get to be so powerful, if they never existed before now?"

"Wait. I **have** heard of them. They…in the Game Station. One of the Anne-droid's questions. The answer was Torchwood, I'm sure of it," she nodded her head in emphasis.

"Yes, but that was after I'd stepped into that timeline. We were already part of events there, and so was Bad Wolf."

"I don't understand."

Surprisingly, he didn't fix her with his usual exasperated look. Apparently, this was a complex enough situation that he didn't expect immediate comprehension from her.

"Do you remember what I said on Satellite Five, about how once I step into a timeline, I become part of it and I can't step back out to change things?" At her nod, he continued, "well, being part of a timeline is the only safe way to change the events of it. You see, time isn't fixed. When you're in the Vortex, everything is possible. Nothing is actual until it gets chosen and shifted into perspective. What you did, with the Vortex, was to change the timeline from outside of it. It's like, if all existence were a song, you rewrote a portion of the song. But all those possibilities that you wrote over, like the Daleks and Jack's death and Bad Wolf…it didn't just stop being. All that energy had to go somewhere. That's what I mean by ripples."

"And you think this Torchwood thing is one of those ripples?"

"Yes. And without them, the Sycorax might not have been destroyed, and who knows what effects that will have on this timeline, or what other things might have been brought into existence that weren't here before."

She scrunched her brow, trying to comprehend, "So, how does this fit with the not-a-wet-willy?"

He started and shot her the exasperated look she'd been expecting for most of the conversation, "I'm talking about the possible end of the Universe, and you're stuck back at my stupid example. Will you leave off the willy thing?"

"Well, I just want to know how it is that when I used the Time Vortex it created all these problems you're talking about, but it was alright when you used it to fix us," her voice was shrill in self-defense and the slight beginnings of panic.

"Well, that's just the thing. I'm a Time Lord. I've had ages of training to learn how to work my willy."

She blinked, then again. She couldn't believe he'd just said that. He was grinning like a madman and she took a strange comfort from it. After a moment, she began grinning as well. She shook her head, chuckling. Leave it to the Doctor to greet the possible end of all things with a cheery smile.

"So, what you're saying," she reached forward and wrapped her hand around his, which was still clutching the wad of serviettes. A smirk slowly spread across her face, "is that when somebody who doesn't know what they're doing starts messing with time, it feels like they're squeezing your willy too hard?" She tightened her hand slightly around his, tongue peeking out between her teeth as he blinked at her non-plussed. His grin slowly disappeared, and she could see his throat working as he swallowed.

"Er. Right. I think we've milked that metaphor for all that it's worth," he disentangled their hands and set the napkins aside, "Check please."


	4. The Gift of Time

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**---------------------------------**

**Chapter 3 – The Gift of Time**

"Are you sure you have to go? You couldn't stay on just a few more days?"

It was Boxing Day, and Rose and her mum were standing in the Council Estate lot next to the TARDIS, saying goodbye for what felt to Rose like the 20th time. Her mum was tugging Rose's scarf closer around her neck, probably more to ward off imaginary dangers than the real chill of the January morning.

"Great-aunt Marion's coming down weekend next for her annual. She was just saying the other day how it's been ages since she's seen you. We could go shopping, have afternoon tea at Claridge's…her treat, of course…"

Rose rolled her eyes, but gave her mum a quick hug of apology, "No, mum. We've already talked about this. I'm going. You said you wouldn't make a fuss."

"Well, it's just it's been so nice having you for such a long visit—"

"So, you're off again, then?" Rose glanced over in surprise as Mickey rounded the corner and walked up to them. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, the way he always did when he was angry. She'd said her goodbyes to him the night before, and he'd seemed resigned to her leaving. Spending the night alone must have changed his mind. She should have known it was a mistake to spend so much time with him over the holidays. It raised his hopes unfairly, despite the fact that for all intents and purposes they were through as a couple. He stood before her now, shoulders hunched forward, head cocked to one side, "Got tired of us normal folk so you're just swanning off with him."

Rose sighed, "I told you both. There's these ripple things, and if we stay here it could put everyone in danger."

Encouraged by Mickey's sullen presence, her mum started in on the same arguments that Rose had spent hours defusing the night before, "But what about you, sweetheart? That man's placing you in danger again. I don't like it. I've half a mind to—"

"Mum…" Rose's tone held a wealth of warning. This was the reason she hadn't wanted to say goodbye to both of them at the same time. They just fed each other's misgivings. Jackie sighed and clicked her tongue.

"Oh, alright. You'll just do what you want, getting into all sorts of trouble. You're mad, the both of you. Well, go on. Get out of here before I change my mind."

"Thanks, mum." Rose hugged her tight, taking a deep breath of the mix of perfume and hair products that she always associated with her mum. She pulled away, not meeting the older woman's eyes because she knew they'd both start crying if she did. Hitching her duffle over her shoulder, she walked towards Mickey.

"So…" she began.

"So…" the perpetually sullen look was fixed on his features. He opened his mouth, probably to make another snarky comment. Rose wrapped her arms around him before he could say anything.

"Don't," she whispered over his shoulder, "just let's say goodbye and leave it. Please?"

He pushed back slightly to search her eyes, a wealth of arguments flitting across his face, before he pulled her close again, hugging her tightly.

"Go on with you then," he pulled back once more and there were suspiciously wet eyes on both their parts, "but if he hurts you…" Mickey's mouth worked as he tried to come up with a credible threat. He finally closed it and glared, letting the implied threat hang. Rose smiled bittersweetly and backed away to the TARDIS' door.

"You both have the number for the Superphone. And I'll remember to call. Promise," and with that she slipped into the blue police box. She closed the door and rested her forehead against it briefly. She loved them both, and understood that their protectiveness sprung from their love for her, but at times like these it became stifling. Overwhelming. It made her wish they had something else in their lives besides her. Something else they could focus that love on. Something like—"

"You ready to go, then? Goodbyes said and all that?"

Rose turned towards the interior of the TARDIS. The Doctor was moving around the console with his usual energy, leaning to one side to spin a strange, pram-wheel contraption before skidding around to the other side to yank a lever back and forth while simultaneously pumping a dangling bladder-looking object full of air. As always, his enthusiasm was instantly infectious, chasing away her sadness. She sauntered forward, pulling a small, gaily wrapped package from her duffle as she went.

"Where are we going then?" she asked, joining him. He was leaning over the display screen, arms spread wide to rest on the edges of the console. She tried to peer over his shoulder, but the TARDIS' output always looked like gibberish to her. She pulled back slightly as he glanced up at her. His look was dramatic and devilish, with a wide cheshire grin. She grinned right back. She loved that he loved showing off for her.

"Where are we going? How about…" he spun a nearby doohickey and slammed his hand down on what looked like an old shop bell, probably for dramatic emphasis, and the central column of light began pumping and wheezing, "Further than we've ever gone before. Beyond the end of the world!"

"Sounds good to me," she felt the shuddering jerk that usually accompanied them entering the Time Vortex, and knew this meant that the Doctor would have a small break between the frantic lever-pulling that seemed to constitute flying the TARDIS. Rose pulled the package out from behind her back and thrust it forward.

"What's this, then?" His look was part curiosity, part trepidation, as if he wasn't quite sure the thing in her hands was entirely safe. Rose clicked her tongue and sighed, still smiling as she proffered the package.

"It's your Christmas present. It's a bit late, sorry." He slowly reached to take it, glancing between the package and her face. The look on his own face was unreadable, and made her wonder when was the last time someone had given **him** something. Her smile gentled.

"S'not much. But it's the thought that counts, right?" He still seemed stunned, turning over the bright package in his hands. She shifted impatiently, "Go on. Open it.'

He glanced at her one more time, then began tearing away the paper. He was so concentrated on opening his present that he didn't notice her smile growing wider and wider. The paper fell away and he was left staring at the object in his hands. It squished as his fingers tightened slightly around it, the blue gel that filled it gently displacing and causing the torus to shift back and forth.

"It's called a Water Snake," she explained, laughter lurking at the back of her words, "I figured an old hand like you could show me how to work it."

He looked up at her, mouth agape, hands gently cradling the novelty toy. He began chuckling, and she followed suit.

"Happy Christmas, Doctor."

Their shared riotous laughter rang through the ship as they hurtled on to their next adventure.


	5. Aftermath of a Kiss

Thanks to sherlocksjanedoe for her comment about the Jack thing needed a better resolution. I totally agree and the following fight is what you get ; 

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**Chapter 4 – Aftermath of a Kiss**

She'd kissed him!

Okay, so maybe it hadn't really been her. Cassandra had been in control of her body at the time. It was Cassandra who'd thrown herself at him and fastened her mouth to his like a lamprey. Who had thrust herself against his wiry frame, rubbed her breasts provocatively against the roughness of his jumper, and caught his lower lip lightly between her teeth as they…

And oh, god, she needed to stop thinking about this. Needed to stop thinking about him like this. He was the Doctor. They weren't **like** that. How many times had she told Mickey, told her mum, her mates down the pub, told anyone who would listen that their thinly veiled smirks and innuendos were misplaced. Her and the Doctor? Like that? It was just ludicrous. He didn't do that. Well, okay, maybe he did, or had at one point if that conversation about dancing they once had really was about what she thought it was about. But he didn't do that now, and he definitely didn't want to do that with **her**.

And the hell of it was, thanks to that kiss she was now wondering why not.

She'd been okay with the way things were between them. Sometimes you were friends with a bloke, and you just ignored any possible attraction because you knew that in the long-term the friendship was more important than a quick snog or a shag. At least, that's how she'd been approaching her relationship with the Doctor. He was so much more than a friend; he was the most important man in her life. He'd shown her a new way of living, a new way of being in the world. He inspired her, challenged her. He dared her to think in ways she'd never thought before (although he'd probably roll his eyes and make a snarky comment about stupid apes if she ever said it), and through him she was becoming so much more than she'd ever dreamed of being.

She loved him. She'd known for a long time how deep her feelings ran. She'd accepted that being in love with him didn't need to be sexual to be real. She was pretty sure he loved her, too. Definitely he needed her. She knew that her presence was sometimes the only thing that kept him going, kept him sane. She didn't pretend to understand the depth of his sadness. She hadn't understood it at the time, but she now knew that that there was a deeper reason behind the trip to Platform One. He had let her see the death of her world, let her experience what it felt like to be the last of her kind, and then returned her to a home teeming with life, something he could never do. She recognized that it was impossible for her to fathom his loneliness. All she could do was be there as a reminder of what he'd fought for, a hand for him to grasp when he started to feel like he might fall to nothingness. But she knew there was more to it than that, even if they never spoke of it. Anyone could offer a hand in the darkness – Jabe, Lynda, even Jack – but hers was the one he kept reaching for.

And now she was afraid that one kiss was going to mess all that up.

He hadn't touched her since leaving New Earth, not even when they delivered Cassandra to herself to enact what had to be the most narcissistic death of all time. Of course, Rose hadn't been too keen on hand-holding following that. The spectacle of Cassandra's self-worship had left a sour taste in her mouth. She'd excused herself to go take a shower and a nap, and when she'd returned to the control room the Doctor's jacket was hung over the railing and he was laid out under the console, tinkering. He'd been avoiding her for the past two days, while they floated destination-less in the Time Vortex. He said he had repairs to make on the TARDIS, but she knew enough to recognize uncomfortable avoidance from actual TARDIS puttering.

She'd wandered to the control room intent on breaking the awkwardness between them, even if she hadn't quite worked out how. He must have heard her approach across the grating, but the long legs sticking out from under the console, one bent at the knee, didn't so much as twitch. Sighing heavily, she leaned against one of the organic, trunk-like supports and sank down to the floor, knees pulled up before her. She waited a few moments longer before sighing pointedly again. Nothing.

"I think we should go back for Captain Jack."

"What?" His head emerged too quickly from the mess of wires and circuitry, banging against the raised grating that he'd obviously forgotten was there. He winced and raised a hand to his forehead, "What are you talking about. Where'd that come from?"

She wasn't quite sure herself. It wasn't something she'd been contemplating. It had just popped out, but now that it was out there it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

"I dunno. It just seems like the right thing to do. We just left him. You just left him."

She missed Captain Jack. The three of them had made a good team, running from time to time and adventure to adventure. She'd just assumed that eventually the Doctor would get around to helping Jack recover the memories of his lost two years, but now somehow everything had gone wrong and the Doctor had left Jack behind. In his absence, especially since the kiss, Rose was realizing just how much Jack's equal-opportunity flirting had diffused any potential for actual romantic tension.

"We can't go back for him," the Doctor was saying, "it's too dangerous."

"Why?" she demanded, "why is it so dangerous?"

"I already told you, and besides—"

"No," she interrupted, "you told me something about water snakes and ripples—"

"—And besides, **you wouldn't understand**," he almost shouted over her protest as he pulled himself out from under the console and stood over her. She surged up to meet him.

"Right, I wouldn't understand, because I'm just a stupid ape." She didn't know why they were suddenly shouting and angry, except that the tension of the past two days had to break somehow and she felt safer shouting than doing any of the other things she half-fantasized about. The Doctor reacted to her parroting of his usual words with patronizing agreement.

"Well, I wasn't going to point that out this time, but as it happens, yes."

"That's bollocks," she shot back, "I know you, Doctor. That's the kind of thing you'd say if there was something you didn't want to tell me. So what is it? Why can't we go back for Captain Jack?"

"I told you, it's too dangerous," he insisted, but he was pacing back and forth and refusing to meet her gaze. She had him on the run now.

"Why? Why is it dangerous? What aren't you telling me?"

"I could lose you!" he spat out, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her sharply. She was startled out of her developing snit by his raw intensity, the open distress in his eyes. She knew it was always there, unseen and unspoken, but facing the stark reality of it, even for a moment, was overwhelming. She was starting to think that maybe this wasn't such a good way to break the post-kiss tension. She blinked, and it was the reprieve he needed to shutter his gaze and return to the semi-comfortable lie they told each other. He released her and began pacing again.

"It's more than just the ripples," he was saying, "because of the way you changed things, Time's going to be trying to reset itself, like an elastic band snapping back into shape. If we all were together, you, me and Jack, it would be harder to resist. When it did snap back the force of it would be exponentially more violent. You used the Vortex to bring Jack back to life," he said slowly, deliberately, forcing her to confront his words and concerns, "but Time's going to be trying to snap back to the shape it was before you mucked with it. If we stay away from Jack, he **may** have a chance."

Even as he said it, Rose could see he had his own doubts, that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince her. She began to get angry again.

"And what? You're just going to let that happen?" She thought about all the changes he said she'd made with the Time Vortex, "Me stuck back at home with Mum and Mickey, Jack dead, and the Dalek fleet…" she stopped, aghast at the ramifications. He gazed at her as she realized what he'd obviously known for days.

"Doctor, you have to do something to stop it."

"Oh, really? Just go up to Time and say 'Excuse me, but would you mind staying all stretched out and bendy? It would be ever so convenient for the rest of us'. Well, thank you very much for a brilliant suggestion, Rose Tyler. I'll set about doing just that then, shall I?"

"Well, if you're going to be all sarcastic about it…" She threw up her hands in annoyance.

"Well, do you have a better suggestion? Because you know me, I'm all ears."

She ignored his sharp attempt at humor, "No, I don't have any suggestions. You're the bloody Time Lord, always going on about how clever you are. Isn't there some way to stop the ripples or, I dunno, reset the clock or something?"

"That's just about the stupidest—" his face had started to twist into a sneer, but all expression suddenly wiped away. He blinked twice, then fixed her with his sharp blue gaze, face splitting into a wide grin, "Rose Tyler, you're brilliant!"

"Yeah, I remember the last time you said that. Dumped me in the TARDIS and sent me home. You won't catch me out with that trick again," she grumbled, although she was somewhat mollified by his sudden turnabout. He ignored her, already closing the floor grating and beginning to race around the console. "Mind telling me about my brilliance?"

"There's an ancient artefact. How it works is too complicated to explain, but what it does is basically just that," at her blank look he grinned again. He was already flipping levers and spinning wheels, and the central rotor was beginning to light up, "reset the clock. Reset Time and absorb all the ripple energy that got dispersed when you did what you did. Make everything right as it is, rather than having Time trying to constantly reset itself."

"That sounds…" she just shook her head at the stupidity of it, "why would anyone ever make something like that?"

"Dunno. It was before my time," he grinned, and she obligingly groaned at his pun, even though it was worse than the 'all ears' joke, "but the point is, it's out there. We just have to find all the pieces and reassemble it."

"And after we do, we'll go back for Captain Jack?"

"We'll see."

"Doctor…" she began warningly.

"Oh, alright. We can go back for your boyfriend."

"Funny, I kinda thought it would be going back for **your** boyfriend," they both smiled taking strange comfort over Jack's legendary ambiguousness. "Do you know where it is, this artefact thing?"

"No. Last time it got assembled, the…person who did it took it apart and dispersed it through space and time. But I know where it was. I can take readings off the pieces, and use those readings to track where they went after it was dispersed so I can find it again." All their previous tension and awkwardness seemed to have faded in the face of a new adventure. She didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed by the lack of resolution. She hesitated, then decided to just let things lie.

"Is it going to be dangerous?" She asked as she joined him at the console.

"Isn't it always?" he responded with a challenging look. "Is that alright?"

"Isn't it always?" she shot right back. They were both grinning. Her mum was right. They were completely mad. Rose wouldn't have it any other way.

"Right then," the Doctor slammed down the final lever and the TARDIS began its usual uncontrollable shaking, "Ribos, here we come!"


	6. Return to Ribos

Longer chapter this time, but the one after this will be short, so it all evens out.

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**Chapter 5 – Return to Ribos**

Rose was freezing.

She was wrapped in several layers of clothing – shell, t-shirt, hoodie and down coat – but the wind was cutting through her loose jeans and tights, and her ears were so cold that they hurt. The Doctor, as usual, seemed unaffected in only his jumper and battered leather jacket. The TARDIS had landed in an archway in front of a large medieval-looking square that during the day might be host to some kind of marketplace. The sky was dark and a light dusting of snow swirled along the ground, pushed into snaking patterns by the wind. More snow floated on the air, but Rose couldn't tell if it was falling from the sky or just being blown about from rooftops. The Doctor was fiddling with the sonic screwdriver as if taking a reading, but the way he kept glancing around she was pretty sure he was just stalling and didn't actually know which way to go. She sighed loudly and stamped her feet pointedly, which earned her a glare.

"Do you mind? We're trying to be stealthy here, remember?"

She glanced around at the empty square, as if to ask who might be around in this freezing weather to hear her, "I thought you said you knew where this thing was," she hissed.

"I do…or, I did," at her doubting look he grew defensive, "well, you know, it **has** been a while. Can't expect me to remember everything right off."

"Right. Well, just take your time. Not like I might freeze to death or anything out here." She huddled back in the archway, hoping the curve of the walls would cut the bite of the wind.

"I told you to dress warmly," he followed her to the alcove, which she took to mean that he wasn't as unaffected by the cold as he let on.

"No. What you **said** was that it was a bit nippy. Not that we'd be landing in the bloody Arctic."

"Actually, we're near the equator, on the southern end of their main continent. It's just that Ribos has a long elliptical orbit. Right now, when they're farthest from the sun, is what they call the Ice Time. Lasts about fifty of their years. Not that they know about suns or orbits. They think it's all a big battle between ice gods and sun gods for control of the planet. But be glad we're not here during Sun Time. You'd be sweltering even in a bikini." He abruptly stopped his impromptu lecture and his eyes widened slightly as if he'd said something he hadn't meant to, then shook his head and returned to concentrating intently on his screwdriver. She pushed away from the wall and sidled over to him. The archway had cut the wind, but the permafrosted stone was radiating a deeper cold.

"Right. Well, might as well make myself useful before we end up like Admiral Parry's crew. So, what's this thing we're after again?"

"It's called the Key to Time."

She hesitated, waiting for the grin that would indicate he was yanking her chain. It didn't come. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Why would I joke about something like that?" She rolled her eyes. Sometimes he could be so obtuse it wasn't to be believed.

"No reason. So, we just going to take it, then?"

"Can't do that. It has to be where it was, otherwise it would make your ripples look like…well…ripples."

"We talking reaper-town?"

"Yeah, something like."

"So, how are we going to get it then?"

"Simple. The first time we…that is, used to be you could track it by using a locator device. Original one's long gone, but if I take readings of each piece, and if I'm very clever – which I am. I'm brilliant," Rose arched a brow at his self-aggrandizement, "then I can reconstruct the locator and it can show us where the key went after…after it was dispersed. Easy-peasy. We just need to make sure we can get to the parts while not mucking up the timeline or being seen by…well…anyone."

"Is that all? Oh, yeah. This is going to go great."

"You're not helping."

"Right," Rose pulled her hands out of her pockets to rub them together, then shoved them back in when she realized that they had been warmer out of the cold, "Well, my mum's always losing her keys to the flat. Shouldn't be any harder to find this thing. Where's the last place you know it was?"

The Doctor continued to look exasperated, "Rose, this isn't like your mum's keys. This is an artefact that predates the Time Lords."

"Stop stalling and think," she commanded, ignoring his protest, "last place."

He sighed, but humored her, "that would be the Catacombs underneath the city. It was disguised as a piece of Jethryk. But we can't go there," he said, forestalling her next suggestion, "there'd be too many people mucking about, chasing it."

"Alright. So what about before that?"

"Unstoffe had it, I think."

"So, no good trying to get it then either," Rose didn't even bother to ask who Unstoffe was, "and before that?"

"It was…" his eyes darted back and forth, rather like Rose's mum's did just before she remembered where her keys were. Rose was about to pointedly remark on the similarity when the Doctor fixed her with an intense blue gaze that was nothing like her mum's. She began to feel just a little warmer. "It was in the Viewing Chamber in the central keep. Garron put it there as part of his con."

Again, Rose sidestepped asking who Garron was, "This chamber guarded?"

"Usually, but tonight…well, let's just say that tonight all the guards are asleep. Come on."

He grabbed her hand and led her through a series of narrow streets and then a bare stone courtyard. Across the courtyard was a long flight of stone stairs carved into the outer wall of what looked like a castle embedded in a mountain. They began climbing, which served to warm Rose slightly, although that slight warmth was torn away as they reached the top of the wall surrounding the keep and became fully exposed to the biting wind. Ducking down below the crenellations that rimmed the upper walkway, they ran from stony outcropping to stony outcropping.

At one point they saw guards approaching, two men dressed in heavy furs and looking like extras from a Tolstoy epic. The Doctor pushed her into the shadows of an outcropping, pressing up against her to hide her body with his own darker shape. She suddenly felt much warmer. The men passed by, complaining about the cold. She tried to keep her breathing soft and even, despite the fact that her stomach was twisting in knots. _Fear_ she thought, _I'm just afraid of being discovered_. The memory of the Cassandra-kiss surged to the fore, and she was instantly hyper-aware of the Doctor's length – thighs, stomach, chest – pressed along hers. She gave up on breathing altogether and focused her eyes on the stitching of his jumper.

"They're gone. Come on," the Doctor murmured after the men had gotten well past of them, but he didn't move away. His hand snaked down to recapture hers. She looked up at him then, his face mere inches from hers, his eyes shuttered and unreadable. They were both breathing a little unsteadily, but she told herself that was just because they'd been running.

"Right," she whispered back, "Ready when you are".

He hesitated a moment longer, as if he were going to speak, but then turned abruptly and resumed leading her silently along the causeway.

Eventually they rounded the side of the stone fortress. The path ended in a set of stone steps that led to a small, flat lookout. In the center, set into the ground, was a large circular opening. Two heavily bundled men were struggling to re-cover it with a heavy round of iron. She and the Doctor hid in another alcove as the men finished their work and hurried away.

After their whispers had faded into the distance, the Doctor rushed back to the cover.

"Right, we don't have much time. Get that," he motioned to a jumbled pile of wooden dowels and ropes hidden under the lip of the escarpment, "and help me with this cover."

Rose retrieved the bundle and hurried to help him. Between them they shifted the iron lid off the opening. The Doctor took the bundle from her and, hooking two iron grapples over the rim of the hole, let the rudimentary rope-ladder drop into the darkness within.

"Down the rabbit hole, then. Beware of Jabberwockies." He motioned for her to precede him.

"You want me to climb down there? On that?" Rose eyed the rope warily.

"What? You'll hang over London from a barrage balloon during the Blitz, but a little rope-ladder scares you?" Her look turned to one of mulish exasperation.

"Fine," she ground out, slinging one leg over the lip and into the darkness, "you're the one who has to face my mum if I fall to my death."

They were silent after that, descending as swiftly as the unstable ladder allowed. The Doctor had set his sonic screwdriver to give off a soft blue glow, but soon the darkness was lightened by flickering torchlight coming from below. Rose was so intent on keeping her grip on the constantly shifting ladder that it wasn't until her foot found firm stone and she was safely planted on the ground that she noticed the strange smell…and the snuffled growling.

"Doctor!" her tone was a strangled whisper as she backed up against the wall behind her.

They were at the bottom of a small, circular tower with no windows, rather like Rapunzel in reverse. Across from where the ladder ended was a moveable stone wall that raised and lowered, portcullis-style. It had been raised a meter or so, high enough for someone or something to crawl through. Nestled up near the opening and chained to the wall was a huge reptilian creature with rows of teeth and viciously curved claws. It shifted and snuffled again and Rose backed up even further. The Doctor dismounted from the ladder and strode past her, kneeling next to the beast.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt us. Drugged." He held aloft a large, half-chewed haunch of some unfortunate animal, and Rose realized then that the snuffling growls were actually snores. She relaxed slightly.

"What is that thing? Is it a Jabberwocky?"

"Don't be daft. Jabberwockies are native to the Brecon Beacons. What would one be doing on Ribos? Naw, this is a Shrivenzale. Fantastic creatures. Cold-blooded, yet they can survive in temperatures well below freezing."

"Oh. That's nice," she murmured, taken aback. She shook her head, "what is it **doing** here?" she hissed.

"Guarding. Told you all the guards were asleep. Most likely drugged by those two fellows we saw above," he stood and grinned at her, "Now stop wasting time. We need to get those readings," he stooped low and went through the opening. Rose quickly followed, giving the shriven-whatsit as wide a berth as possible.

The room on the other side was similarly round, but apart from that it was as different from the lizard-lair as possible. For one thing, it was warm, and Rose felt her shoulders loosening in relief. The walls were rimmed with what looked like religious and royal regalia, all stitched with gold and heavily bejeweled. In the center of the room was a display case, where an ornate crown, scepter, orb and other artefacts gleamed from a bed of royal blue velvet. It reminded her of the time she and her mum had taken Great Aunt Marion to the Tower of London. She found herself whispering more out of reverent awe than from a need to be stealthy.

"Doctor, tell me we're not here to steal their Crown Jewels. Please." She could already sense the trouble brewing if they were.

"I told you, Rose, we're not here to steal anything," nevertheless, he was kneeling next to the central display case, pointing his screwdriver at an unimpressive lump of blue crystal inside, "I just need to get these readings and we'll be off. Make yourself useful and keep a lookout through the keyhole." He motioned towards a heavy wooden door which did indeed have a large keyhole. Rose knelt before it and peered out, but all she could see was an empty hallway.

"There's nothing out there," she observed.

"Well, keep looking. They're bound to show up any time now."

"Who?"

The Doctor sighed and fixed her with an irritated look, "Rose, I'm trying to pinpoint the quantum signature of an extremely powerful and ancient artefact through two centimeters of glass using a sonic screwdriver, and it would be easier to do if you would **stop asking useless questions!**" She smiled apologetically and went back to her keyhole, but not before she saw a ruefully affectionate smile flit across his features.

At first, she assiduously watched the corridor, but time crawled past and her eyes became bleary from squinting through the opening. Her lids began to droop as the warmth of the room finally penetrated her bones. Behind her, the high whine of the sonic screwdriver was oddly comforting. She even forgot to be nervous about the snoring reptile. The sound of muffled voices approaching called her back to alertness and she strained to see through the keyhole.

"Doctor, you'd better hurry. I think someone's coming."

"I'm almost done," his voice was distracted, and she wasn't quite sure he'd registered her warning. She turned to warn him more forcefully when he looked up at her with a peculiar urgency, "Is it a guard?"

Rose peeked out the hole again. A couple had rounded the corner and were making their way down the hall, definitely towards the room.

"Naw," she answered in hushed tones, still peering through the hole, "it's some woman who looks like she's wearing a dead muppet, and a man with big teeth, goofy hair and – blimey, what is he thinking with that scarf? It's awful!"

"Oi! Can we cut it with the fashion critiques?" The Doctor sounded strangely offended. She glanced back at him, but he was already standing and slipping the sonic screwdriver into his breast pocket.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he glared at her as if it were not nothing, but the rattling on the other side of the door told her that she'd have to pursue it later. The Doctor shunted her through the opening of the reptile's lair and they began climbing silently. Rose could hear the muffled voices of the man and the woman as they entered the artefact room, but the acoustics made it impossible to hear what they were saying.

The moment she crested the top of the hole, the wind cut through her again, chasing away the warmth from the room. She and the Doctor hefted the cover back on top of the opening and she bundled the ladder and shoved it back into its hiding place. They ran hand-in-hand back to the TARDIS, grinning at each other as they reached warm safety and shut the door behind them. It wasn't until he had sent them shuddering into the Time Vortex – giving her the chance to warm up and stop her teeth from chattering – that she spoke again.

"So…that went well. No near death experiences. No getting captured or saving the world from near annihilation…"

"Yeah. Fantastic, wasn't it? Smooth as butter."

She arched a brow, "And that doesn't worry you a bit? Doesn't strike you as slightly…odd?"

"Rose," he sighed, "not everything we get involved in ends up going wrong."

She started to argue that yes, actually, it almost invariably did, but after the emotional turmoil of the past few days she didn't want to upset their slowly returning equilibrium. Instead she just shook her head and joined him at the console.

"So, that's one down. Where to next?"

"Do you want to rest?" he asked. She wondered if he'd noticed her nodding off on lookout duty.

"Naw. We're on a roll. But somewhere nicer next time would be good. Maybe someplace where I can wear that bikini," she grinned to soften the suggestiveness of the comment, tongue peeking out slightly between her teeth. _Just some innocuous flirting_, she thought, _Nothing to it. Just like before_.

He snorted at her request, but began flipping switches just the same, "No sunny beaches on our itinerary, but I suppose we could skip Zanak – miserable place really, you'll hate it – and get the readings on the piece in Cornwall instead."

"Cornwall? Like, in England?" she gave a disdainful snort.

"Yeah. Late 1970's. It'll be fantastic. We can get the readings, maybe pop out to Sheffield, catch Ian Dury in concert. Home in time for tea."

She shook her head, but his enthusiasm was as infectious as ever, "Right then. Bell-bottoms and platform shoes, here I come! I'll just go change," she called, already skipping towards the wardrobe.

She didn't find any bell-bottoms and wondered if the TARDIS was purposely refusing to provide them. She finally threw on a dungaree denim mini and some fresh tights. Returning to the control room she found him once again tinkering with the TARDIS. _The actual most important female in his life_, she thought wryly. Sometimes she wondered about the relationship between the Doctor and his living ship.

"What do you think of this? Will it do?" Rose smoothed her hands down the bib of her dungarees. It might not have been particularly period, but it was comfortable. Maybe she could start cultivating a style like the Doctor's; he seemed to fit in everywhere, even if people did usually mistake him for a Navvy.

"For the late 1970's? You'd be better off in a bin-bag," he glanced up at her then and grimaced, "Nevermind. I see you're wearing one."

"Hey! Who's the fashion critic now?" she cried, self-consciously tugging on the pooching bib. She was considering returning to the TARDIS' wardrobe for another attempt when the Doctor threw the final lever with a muttered 'hang on'.

The ship lurched much harder than it normally did. Even braced, both the Doctor and Rose were thrown to the floor. He was the first to recover, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. She sat up and checked for bruises. That had been one rough landing.

"Here we are. Cornwall, 1979. Beautiful cold, wet, rainy beaches as far as the eye can see, right outside that door. Ready?" He reached his hand down to her and pulled her up to his side. She grinned and leaned into him as they made their way to the TARDIS' door, still hand-in-hand—

—And straight into the sights of a dozen cocked rifles, wielded by a troop of deadly looking soldiers in scarlet regimentals.

"…or 1879. Same difference," the Doctor muttered.

"What's that you said about sometimes things going right?" Rose asked pointedly as they both slowly raised their hands.

"Oh, shut it," the Doctor replied.

Disclaimer:

Yes, another snippet of dialogue to stitch together what I'm doing, this time from Tooth and Claw, but heavily modified to cut down on the blathering. Let's face it, Nine may be able to talk up a storm, but he doesn't usually blather. It's not meant to be plagiarism, it's "merely corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative." – to which you reply: "Corroborative detail indeed! Corroborative fiddlestick!"

Disclaimer's disclaimer:

And the above is a snippet of dialogue between Pooh-Bah and Pitti-Sing from the Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan, because I'm an even bigger G&S fan than I am a Doctor Who fan!

Additional disclaimer:

I made a gratuitous reference to my favorite OTP, which is the Doctor and the TARDIS. If anyone can rec any good fics for this pairing, I will be in your debt.


	7. Exiled

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**Chapter 6 -- Exiled**

They were safely back in the TARDIS, laughing over the idea of the Royal Family being werewolves. But even as she collapsed to lie on the grating next to the Doctor, stomach aching, Rose recognized the hysteria that colored their laughter. As it died out, the deeper concerns it kept at bay began gnawing at her thoughts.

"So," she finally ventured after they'd lapsed into silence, "Bad Wolf again."

"I know," the Doctor replied softly.

"And Torchwood."

"I **know**."

"Not exactly smooth, was it?" she pushed, "Not exactly 1979 either. But then, the TARDIS does seem to get pulled off course a fair bit."

"It's not her fault," he said defensively, "It's hard to navigate a ripply Vortex. It's like rough seas. Going off course is bound to happen," he sat up and she followed suit. She considered asking about all the off-course landings they had before Satellite Five, but decided against chiding him any further.

"So, this was definitely a ripple effect?" she asked instead.

"Oh, yeah."

"And it's going to happen more often as things get worse?"

"Oh yeah. And we'll probably get blown off course more often too, as it progresses."

"Doctor, I was thinking…about Ribos. That's the only time since Satellite Five that we haven't run into any ripple stuff. That whole thing I said about things going well earlier…you think that's a coincidence?"

"I don't…" he gave her the astonished, interested look he always gave her when something she said started his mental gears turning in new and innovative ways. Hopping to his feet, he drew out his sonic screwdriver and began fiddling with a rather plain looking hole on the TARDIS' console. She rose and joined him.

"You're right!" At her triumphant smirk he shot her a stern look, "don't get cocky. But yeah, the piece of the key puts out a minor dampening field that helps to mitigate the ripple energies near it."

"But we can't nab any of the pieces, yeah? So it doesn't really help us any."

"No, but it does indicate that the plan will work," the relief in his voice caused her to glare at him.

"You mean, you weren't sure it was going to?"

"Well, not…that is to say…" he hemmed, "Look, I was **almost** positive it would work. Now I know for sure," his grin was infectious. She shook her head, smiling slightly in return.

"Right, well, I suppose we should get on with it then. On to 1979 for real this time?"

"No…" he was still fiddling with the readout on the console, only half regarding her, "I think it might be better to do them in order – it follows a sort of temporal flow that will help reduce the ripple friction – make for fewer wrong landings," he noticed her covering a yawn and suddenly all his attention was on her, "but first, Rose Tyler, you're going to have a proper meal and shower and sleep. You look knackered."

"You know," she observed as he turned her by the shoulders and began marching her towards the depths of the TARDIS, "for someone who doesn't do domestic, you sure sounded like my mum just then," she glanced back in time to see a look of horrified insult settle on his features.

"Just for that, no pudding after supper for you, young lady."

"Aww…."

"And bed with no telly!"

This time, it was a more comfortable laughter that rang through the TARDIS.


	8. Zanak Ahoy!

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**---------------------------------**

**Chapter 7 – Zanak Ahoy!**

"That's it. I'm done waiting for you, pokey. We're landing and you can just catch up when you feel like it," the Doctor's tone as it rang down the TARDIS' corridor was playfully patient, despite his words. Rose finished off a last bite of toast and washed it down with a gulp of tea before hurrying out to join him. She didn't think he was serious about leaving her, but just in case…

Yawning despite being fully rested – the lack of a diurnal cycle really played havoc with her sleep schedule – Rose entered the console room. She was clad in jeans and a t-shirt and was zipping up her customary hoodie, pink this time. She grabbed onto the railing to steady herself as the TARDIS began its materialization sequence with customary turbulence. Once the shuddering had ceased, Rose released her grip on the railing and followed the Doctor, who was already striding purposefully down the ramp towards the door. She noticed that this time he cautiously poked his head out before fully exiting, probably still embarrassed about getting caught off-guard by Queen Victoria's troops. She followed him out, eyes widening as she took in the breathtaking beauty of their landing spot.

They were in a vaulted cavern of striated limestone lit from the ground by small clusters of glowing crystalline mushrooms. Above the natural lights the walls exploded into a swirling riot of earthy reds, golds and greens before being consumed again by the deep shadows beyond the lights' reach. It reminded her of the time she went to Cheddar Caves on a school outing, except this place was entirely devoid of tourists. It was amazing the difference that a complete absence of humanity could make in a place like this. It was silent save for the sound of dripping water and the echo of her and the Doctor's shuffled steps. Rose's breath caught in appreciation at the natural splendour, and she could sense the Doctor watching her with an indulgent grin.

"Where are we, then?" she whispered, unwilling to break the stillness, but intensely curious about this beautiful place. She thought she remembered him saying that it was a miserable place and that she wouldn't like it.

"Zanak," he replied softly. He had moved close to her so she could hear his low whisper. She held back a shiver as his breath stirred the hair near her ear, "It's a hollow planet. We're in the middle levels of the mines."

"Mines?" she resisted glancing back at him. He was too close for such a look to be comfortable. Instead she gestured at the twisting rock formations around them, "So, this isn't natural?"

"Nothing about this place is natural," he bit out. She did turn then, stepping away to put a little more space between them. Her brow furrowed at the sudden anger in his tone.

"Doctor?"

"This place? It's a…an abattoir for other planets. Like I said, it's hollow. They have great transmat machines that let them literally teleport around other planets, then they pulverize the other planets, extracting all their mineral resources. Nevermind the lives of the people on those planets or the destruction that's left in their wake. They've killed dozens of worlds, billions of inhabitants, all to fuel one madwoman's desire to live forever."

Rose remained silent, taken aback by his quiet rant. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide, as if even he hadn't expected to be overcome by such fury. After a moment's hesitation, Rose approached him and put her hand on his leather-clad arm.

"Hey. We're here to take the readings on this key thing, right?" he nodded, hanging on her words as if she could draw him from the dark place he'd momentarily fallen to. "Well, there's nothing to say we can't foil their plans. Break their machines, toss that woman down one of her own mine-shafts, whatever. I'm always up for a little world-saving. How about you?"

"No point," his sigh sounded resigned, "It's already been…will be done. It's being done right now. In a few hours the machines will be destroyed and the hollow planet will be filled. No more popping around the Universe for them." he began walking towards a wide opening that led to an upward sloping corridor. She followed, shoulders slumping slightly.

"Oh. Kinda disappointing that. Feels like we're being left out of the loop a bit."

"We can't interfere," he cautioned.

"I know, I know. S'just…world saving going on, and we're not involved. Makes my fingers a bit twitchy. Doesn't it make yours?"

"Yeah, a bit," his slight smile told her that she'd managed to chase his anger away, "but if you're really hard up, we can always find you something to save. Maybe a canary."

"Don't think this is canary country down here. Maybe bat country, but definitely not canaries, " Rose looked around. The corridor had narrowed and there was a track above their heads, with burned out lamps set into the walls. She found herself wistfully thinking of the natural beauty of the glowing mushroom clusters. This entire area seemed long abandoned, despite the presence of the man-made objects. Echoing from side corridors she could hear the distant sounds of industry, "I thought you said this was a mine. Where are all the miners?"

They had come to an open elevator shaft. The Doctor fiddled with his sonic screwdriver near the controls, and they heard a mechanical whir as the lift was activated. She looked askance at the lift when it arrived. It was an open-air basket affair. It didn't look too sturdy, but as she boarded it she figured it was leaps and bounds better than a rope ladder,

"It's automated," he replied as the lift began to move, "all the machinery is run by operators from a central facility aboveground."

"Must be nice for the owners, saving money like that," she commented absently, "but I bet they don't have anything like RECHAR for the displaced workers or the affected communities," at his incredulous look, she became suddenly defensive, "What? I can't know anything about the world sometimes? We spend enough time in Cardiff, I feel like an honorary Welshman as it is," he just raised his eyebrows and shook his head. She took a breath to defend herself again when the lift crested the surface. The Doctor stiffened and spoke before she could launch a further defense.

"I don't think you need to worry about displaced workers, Rose," he nodded towards the open area beyond the lift grate, "I think we just found them."

Rose turned to see that they were in an abandoned-looking warehouse of corrugated tin. Holes in the roof let in dim sunlight, and strewn throughout the large area were broken-down mining carts and other mining paraphernalia. A group of men in boilersuits were gathered around a large and much newer-looking piece of equipment, what Rose assumed to be the automated operations. What concerned Rose more were the four helmeted guards in black and silver that were marshalling near the lift, advanced-looking weaponry pointed directly at her and the Doctor.

"Hello," the Doctor waved cheerfully.

"Who are you? What were you doing in the mines?" One of the guards demanded.

"Oh, right," the Doctor fumbled in his coat pocked and pulled out the leather fold that Rose knew contained the psychic paper. She braced herself to playact whatever role he was going to cast her in, "I'm Special Mine Inspector John Smith, and this is my associate Rose Tyler of the National Union of Mineworkers. We're here to check on mine conditions in preparation for the new golden age."

"We weren't informed of any inspection," said a rather burly-looking man in a rumpled gray boilersuit. He muscled between the guards and carefully inspected the psychic paper. Rose was starting to worry that he'd seen some flaw, but eventually he handed the folder back to the Doctor. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the man fixed her with a baleful glare, "And I never heard of no National Mineworkers Union."

"National Union of Mineworkers," replied the Doctor. Rose refrained from rolling her eyes at his need to correct minutiae, "the NMU is a corrupt organization only out to steal your dues. The NUM works for miner benefits and interests—"

"Foreman Ozlack," the head guard interrupted, removing his helmet to reveal a hard-faced man with the look of career military, "there's no other access to the mines, and we haven't let anyone down this way. These are obviously Mentiads like the ones my men encountered earlier. They're controlling our minds to make us think they're inspectors."

Rose saw the Doctor opening his mouth to protest, when the foreman rounded on the guard and did it for him.

"Nonsense, Sergeant Greig. This man has authorization from Mr. Fibuli himself. Unless you're going to tell me that the Mentiads can falsify documents now, too."

"But…" the guard began to protest.

"Enough. I've orders to increase our mining to full capacity, but with the slurry output pump blocked, we're down to 30 percent of capacity. That's probably why the Inspector has been sent here," he shot Rose a suspicious look and muttered under his breath, "though I don't know about the other one."

"Quite right," said the Doctor, taking his cue from the unwitting foreman, "And now that I know the trouble, Sergeant Greig can just pop us up to the Bridge to make our report to Mr. Fibuli. Don't worry," he assured the foreman, who had started to look nervous, "I'll be sure to stress that the blockage isn't your fault, and that you're doing everything in your power to fix it. Shall we go?" He started to lead Rose forward, but Sergeant Grieg's words stopped him.

"She stays here."

"What?"

"Your associate. She stays here. You may have papers," the guard's face still showed his doubts over the document's authenticity, "but she doesn't. Unauthorized people are not allowed on the Bridge, especially with the current Mentiad threat."

The Doctor opened his mouth to argue, then apparently thought better of it, "If I could just have a word with my associate?" He led Rose to one side before the guard could reply.

"Doctor, don't you dare leave me…"

"Now, look Rose," he leaned close so they couldn't be overheard, "This is fantastic. Best chance we have to get on the Bridge where the key is. It's a madhouse up there right now, too much potential for…well…let's just say it'll be a lot easier to avoid trouble if it's just me. You'll be safe down here. No planet-saving on the agenda for you today. Just cool your heels and keep out of the miners' way. I'll be back in no time."

"Cool my heels?" she hissed. Sometimes she was overcome by the urge to smack him one, "Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

"Or, you could always unionize them, honorary Welshman that you are," he grinned at her, "The NUW needs all the support it can get." She started to voice a further protest, but he was already walking towards the guard, all smiles and cheer.

"Well, what are you waiting for Sergeant. The next Golden Age of Prosperity won't come by itself."

Rose glared at the Doctor's retreating back as he and the guard left. Sometimes she just…. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. He was probably right. As much as she hated being left behind, what they were doing was far too important and far too dangerous for her to make a fuss. She knew the Doctor well enough to know that he wouldn't leave her behind unless he thought it was necessary – well, that or to keep her safe, but she rather got the idea that it was the former this time.

Bucking up a little with that thought, she turned her attention to the miners. Most of them were sitting off to one side. Obviously whatever measures they had attempted to clear the pump blockage had failed, and they were now in a hurry-up-and-wait pattern until some new measure could be tried. Squaring her shoulders and pasting a bright smile on her face, Rose headed over to them.

"So," she began nonchalantly as they looked up at her approach, "ever heard the phrase 'Workers of the World, Unite'?"

-------------------------------

The Doctor regaled Sergeant Grieg with the technical details of the mining processes of a dozen civilizations as the air skiff took them to the Bridge. He focused particularly on the kinds of environmental damage caused by various forms of mining, and the low cost/benefit ratio once factors like quality of life were taken into account. He thought he had done quite well at boring Grieg into letting his guard down, but as they were getting out of the skiff, the Sergeant turned to him with renewed suspicion.

"Wait a moment. Mountaintop removal? What's that?" he said in response to the Doctor's most recent topic, "There's no such thing. All mining on Zanak is subsurface."

"Really? Is it?" The Doctor began edging towards a nearby door. Grieg was rounding the nose of the skiff, stalking towards him, "Are you sure? No pesky mountaintops getting in the way of somebody's lovely view? Well, my mistake." He lunged for the door, yanking it open to find a small maintenance closet. Behind him, Grieg laughed. The Doctor turned to face the guard.

"You won't find any escape that way, Mentiad traitor. You're trapped."

"Oh, it isn't for me," the Doctor said nonchalantly, folding his arms. He saw Grieg's muscles tense. The guard charged and The Doctor nimbly stepped to one side. Grieg's momentum sent him crashing into the closet, arms wheeling. The Doctor quickly slammed the door closed, whipping out his sonic screwdriver to seal the closet shut.

"It's for you," he finished. It really was like shooting fish in a barrel, just as he remembered. He took an amused satisfaction from the muffled pounding and shouting coming from the closet. Pocketing his screwdriver, he jogged down an empty corridor, searching for the engine room, and the service lift that would lead him to Queen Xanxia's stasis chamber.

It took a wrong turn or two, but he eventually found his way to the narrow hatch. Climbing in, he used the sonic screwdriver to pop the electronic lock that blocked the lift from going to Xanxia's chambers unless called. The tiny cubicle lurched as it rose and he braced himself against the smooth metal walls. The timing on this next bit would be tricky, he knew. Leave it just a few minutes late and he didn't want to contemplate the potential for disaster. When it stopped, he put his ear to the door and listened. The room on the other side was quiet, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief. He was just about to open the hatch when he heard voices, footsteps approaching. He only had time to squeeze himself into the furthest corner when the hatch opened and he found himself staring at a man with wild blue eyes, a mop of curly hair, and (he cursed Rose for being right) a rather ridiculously long scarf. His Fourth iteration. Himself.

----------------------------------

Rose was appalled at the circumstances her conversation with the miners had revealed.

"Wait a moment," she halted the latest miner, a skinny, bright-eyed boy about her age, midway through his list of grievances, "Narell, what you're telling me is that you're all basically slaves. You don't get paid or nothing? None of you?"

"No, miss," he replied. She thought he might be trying to wheedle some pity out of her, but the nodding of the other miners verified his claim.

"But then, why do you do it?" she had given up any pretense of being from this place or knowing its ways. Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied with the machinery, and none of the loitering miners seemed to care about her obvious ignorance. All of them were eager to bend the sympathetic ear of a pretty girl, "I mean, if the conditions are as strenuous and dangerous as you say, why do it? There's only a few guards, and they don't seem to be watching you lot too closely."

"You don't understand the way of it, miss," one of the older miners – she wanted to say his name was Pisser, but she was pretty sure she must have misheard it – cut in. Narell looked put out that the old man had diverted her attention, "Zanak's rich. The whole planet is littered with precious stones. We're bowing under the weight of our own prosperity. The Golden Ages of Prosperity just keep coming and coming. Nobody needs to work, so nobody does. But the Captain needs operators and mechanics, and miners sometimes for when the machines break down. And there's always people who disagree with the Captain's policies."

"Or have family members who did," cut in another miner.

"Or have family members who were taken by the Mentiads," muttered another.

"And so, there you go," Pisser concluded, "Technically we're all volunteers, but only because it beats being shot by the Captain's guards."

"That's why this Union thing you're talking about, it doesn't sound possible," Narell said softly, wistfully, "It's a nice dream and all, but we'd be killed for sure. Captain's got no reason to listen to us. We got no power, united or not."

"So you're not workers. You're like, whatsit…indentured prisoners or something?" Rose clarified, still appalled, "What about the Foreman? Is he…"

"Naw," said Pisser, "he's the Captain's man. But he's a good Foreman. I've worked at other mines in other places where the Foremen weren't nearly so careful of the men or sympathetic to our situation."

Rose was about to ask more questions when Foreman Ozlack appeared at her side. Despite Pisser's assurances that he was a conscientious boss, she couldn't help glaring at him just a little.

"Alright, men. We just got the all-clear on this lode. Looks like it's mined-out, but we've also been informed there's a new Golden Age of Prosperity on its way. We'll need to clear the pump, and it looks like there's no hope for doing it remotely. Time to stop flirting with the young lady and get to work. You," he pointed at Pisser, "take the lads down the tunnel and see what you can do from that end. You, boy, what's your name?"

Rose's new friend's eyes widened at being singled out and his adam's apple bobbed, "Narell," he croaked.

"Right," said the Foreman, looking the boy up and down, "You look skinny enough. Ever been down a well before?" Ozlack didn't seem too perturbed when Narell shook his head, "Well, no matter. Might do, might do. Come with me."

The Foreman walked away towards the automated equipment, Narell trailing in his wake. Rose saw several of the miners giving Narell pitying looks, and Pisser looked downright…well…pissed.

"What's going on? Where are you blokes going?" Rose asked as the other miners began gathering their gear and moving away.

"Down into the Hollow, Miss. Didn't you hear the Foreman? New Golden Age is coming, and the Hollow's gonna fill up again. We need to clear the pump before that happens or we'll fall further behind on our output."

"So, it's safe, then?" Rose pressed.

"Safe as houses, Miss. Long as we're out of there before the Hollow fills. But that'll be days yet."

"Days?" she was confused. She was certain the Doctor had said—

"Sorry, miss. Best be getting to work," Pisser set his cap more firmly on his head and began herding the miners to the lift. Rose hurried after him.

"Wait? What about Narell? Why isn't he going with you?"

Pisser paused to let the other miners pile onto the lift, glancing over to make sure Foreman Ozlack was otherwise occupied, "He's going to be lowered down the well to check the intervals of the casing column and see if he can clear the slurry blockage from inside."

"But, he'll be safe, right?" Rose pressed.

"Should do, miss. Narell's skinny enough he won't get stuck, and the chances of the column bursting and drowning him aren't too high."

"Not too high? What does that mean?" but Pisser had boarded the lift and it was lowering into the darkness of the shaft below. He looked up at her and tugged his cap as he disappeared from sight.

Incensed, Rose turned and stalked towards the Foreman. She saw that Narell had already been fitted with a harness and was standing on the lip of what she assumed was the well. The space between the casing and the rock wall looked pretty narrow to her, and she wondered if even Narell's thin frame would be able to fit. She opened her mouth, intending to make as much of a stink as she needed to in order to stop the Foreman from sending Narell down, but the boy looked at her with a grimly steady gaze and her protest died on her lips.

"It's alright, Miss. It's my job. Just give us a kiss for luck."

_But it's not_, she wanted to shout, _It's not your job. You're being forced to do this. You're not even getting paid!_ Instead she leaned forward and gave him a quick buss on the cheek. His bright smile was the last thing to fade from view as he was lowered into the darkness of the well.

Rose waited anxiously as the minutes ticked by. Foreman Ozlack glared at her a few times, but seemed resigned to her presence. Nails drumming nervously on the railing around the platform, Rose eventually broke the silence with a question that had been niggling at the back of her brain.

"Foreman, one of the miners told me they were safe in the Hollow as long as they got out before it filled again."

"That's right miss. Right now's the only time it's safe to go in the Hollow."

"But he said it would be safe for a few days. How do you know when this…Golden Age thing is supposed to arrive? How can you make sure the miners are out in time."

"We get a call from the Bridge," he seemed to relax, seemed willing to indulge her questions even though they marked her as an outsider, "The Captain's scientists always know when the omens are going to come. They warn us and we make sure everyone's out."

"But you haven't received any warning about it happening today?" Now Rose knew something was wrong. She clearly recalled the Doctor telling her as they exited the TARDIS that in a few hours the transmat engines would be destroyed and the hollow planet filled.

"No, Miss. We just finished mining the previous bounty. We'll have a few days before it refills, I'm sure of it."

He might be, but Rose wasn't. She dithered for a moment over what to do. On the one hand, if she warned the Foreman she would be using knowledge of the future. The Doctor would throw a fit if she did something to muck up the timeline. On the other hand, she couldn't just let those men die, and it wasn't like she was crossing her own timeline, like with her dad. She didn't think saving the miners would mess anything up.

Reaching a decision, Rose turned to Ozlack and fixed him with her most deadly serious gaze, "Foreman. Something's going to go wrong. The Hollow is going to be filled sooner than you think, like in the next hour. You've got to get your men out of there, or they'll all die."

-------------------------------------

Temporal quantum physics in action was a rather disconcerting thing to experience, even if one was a Time Lord and had some familiarity with the phenomenon. The Doctor raised a finger to his lips to warn his Fourth self not to react or call attention to him, at the same moment he recalled **being** his Fourth self, opening the service lift hatchway to see a future regeneration of himself hidden inside and raising a finger to his lips. The memories, which had only been potential until the moment of occurrence brought them into actuality, assaulted him with a peculiar double-vision. He blinked against the disorientation.

Luckily, whatever else he may have been in his many regenerations, he'd never been slow-witted. The look of surprise that flashed over his Fourth self's features was gone as quickly as it arrived. The hatch closed and the Doctor heard footsteps as his Fourth self herded the lad Kimus away from the door. He heard K-9 enter and recollected that this was when he had…or rather would…or rather was cannily turning Kimus so that the boy's back was to the hatch. Not much time, he recalled. He quietly opened the hatch, slipping out of the service lift and into the shadows of the time-dampeners that served to keep Queen Xanxia's old body suspended in the last moments of her life, just as his Fourth self shoed Kimus and K-9 onto the service lift and away. He knew it was probable that the robot dog had seen or sensed him, but K-9 had been developed to travel with a Time Lord. He would know better than to mention the anomaly of two Masters in one place and time.

The Doctor waited until his Fourth self exited the room to confront Xanxia with the cellular projection device that she was using to create her new body, then emerged from the shadows, sighing in relief. That had been too close, too great a risk. If it weren't for the nearby presence of a portion of the Key, and the associated temporal dampening field, it might have been much worse. He took several deep breaths as he assimilated the new memories of the confusion and anger his Fourth incarnation had felt at seeing himself. Then he chuckled ruefully at the gratitude both he and his Fourth self felt that Romana hadn't been present for that particular kerfuffle.

Recalling the matter at hand, he let himself into the Captain's trophy hall. Lining the walls along either side of the hall were clear display cases. Each one was labeled – Granados, Bandraginus V, Lowiteliom, Calufrax, and so on. In each case hung a shining sphere. They looked ordinary enough, even plain considering the elegance of the display, but the Doctor knew that each sphere represented a planet destroyed, the death of billions of souls. He felt his previous fury returning. A masterpiece of gravitic geometry, he'd once called it, and so it was. Balancing the condensed mass of the planets against each other so that their gravitic pulls were cancelled out was a work of genius that he didn't think even he could equal. But then, he would never turn his genius to genocide.

But hadn't he?

That thought stopped him. His fury dissipated into the despair that always loomed like a shadow in his mind. He bowed his head, resting it against the case housing Calufrax, the 'planet' that Zanak had just finished mining, but in reality the segment to the key that he'd come to take readings on. He looked down the row of cases, each of them a planet. Each of them destroyed like Gallifrey. He thought of his Fourth self, taking the Captain to task in this very room, less than a half-hour ago relatively speaking, for so much wanton destruction. Only later had he discovered that the Captain's plan was to use the gravitic mass of the planets to destroy Queen Xanxia, to end her reign and her life once and for all. Now he was left wondering if there was any difference between what the Captain had done in his attempt to end Xanxia, and what he himself had done to end the Daleks and the Time War.

He shook his head. He didn't have time for these thoughts. Fishing out his sonic screwdriver he began taking the readings he would need. Unfortunately, the process was easier than he'd indicated to Rose on Ribos, leaving his sometimes too-active mind to gnaw over his troubled thoughts.

'_It's different, but it's only by degrees, innit?…What makes what I did right and what Harriet Jones did wrong?'_ Rose's words echoed in his mind. He had dismissed her worries before, but now he wondered if her question was wiser than he'd given her credit for. If the real reason he'd waved her question off was because it hit too close to home. He wasn't perfect. He knew he made mistakes. He prided himself on never making the same mistake twice, but he knew that this was only possible because of the deep introspection he put into all his actions. He might make a mistake, out of anger or fear, but he was good at recognizing it almost immediately. When fate offered him second chances, he tried to be wise enough to take them…even if that wisdom did sometimes look like cowardice from the outside. He knew better, and that was what mattered.

He should have taken Rose's question more seriously. He should have talked to her about what had happened on Satellite Five, rather than just giving her the bare details and shunting her off before she asked anything too uncomfortable, or remembered details he knew he would never reveal. He wondered if she had nightmares about atomizing the Dalek fleet. It didn't matter if she didn't remember doing it. Sometimes, he knew, not remembering was worse. The imagination could supply horrific images in a way that actual experience had no way of competing against. His involvement in Gallifrey's destruction had been a distant, remote thing. The imagined screams that often haunted him seemed worse than any real memories could have been.

"Rose," he whispered. His free hand reached for hers out of habit, but closed on empty air. His fingers clenched tightly, nails biting into his palms. He wished she were here at his side, despite the danger and the difficulty they would have had in navigating the Bridge together. Despite the mess that would have resulted if she'd been in the lift with him. He was glad she was safe with the miners, but he wished she were with him so he could touch her, hold her, anchor himself to reality through her. He sometimes worried how dependant he had come to be on her. It seemed to him that if he went too long without physically reassuring himself of her presence that he went a little mad.

Before Satellite Five, before he'd kissed her, it had been easy to convince himself that his need was platonic. Before New Earth, he was sure that she had convinced herself similarly. The few days after New Earth had been hellish for him, not knowing how to return them to the uncharged friendship of before, not daring to touch her for fear that it would lead to something more.

There were a multitude of reasons why he could never go there, shouldn't ever think about going there, from ancient Gallifreyan custom to more clearly defined Time Lord restrictions to his own personal code of honor. Searching for the Key was more than just a solution to their long-term problem, more than just a way to save the Universe. It was a welcome distraction from the more confusing morass of unspoken emotions and desires that lay between them. He knew he should try harder to push her away, for both their sakes, but he couldn't stop himself from reaching for her hand.

A slight change in the whine of the sonic screwdriver, so insignificant that most people wouldn't sense it, brought him out of his musings. He concentrated on the instrument, checking to make sure the reading was as complete as it could be. It was.

Right. Time to stop moping about Rose and Gallifrey and get a move on. He repocketed the sonic screwdriver and made his way back to the service lift. His Fourth self and Romana should be on their way back to the TARDIS to stall the Captain and Xanxia from moving Zanak. Hopefully, he could get back to the mines before the planetary transmat was engaged. He recalled that the entire planet had quaked terribly during the failed transmatting. Even the TARDIS had been damaged. Hopefully he could get himself and Rose out of there before that happened, but whatever the case, he didn't want to leave Rose alone during the violent tremors that were about to come.

Rassilon, he was glad she was safe with the miners.


	9. Miner Complications

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**---------------------------------**

**Chapter 8 – Miner Complications**

Foreman Ozlack stared at Rose following her pronouncement, his expression slowly hardening, a red flush rising up his neck. He opened his mouth, probably to demand just what she was going on about and to tell her to bugger off. She interrupted before he could get anything out. If there was one thing she'd learned from the Doctor and especially from that debacle with the Sycorax, it was that **how** you said something was sometimes more important than **what** you said.

"You see, the NUW has been working with…"she paused, pulled a name from her memory that the Foreman had seemed to respect, "with Mr. Fibuli to investigate the Mentiad threat. We've been put on Code: Mauve alert. We have reason to believe the Mentiads have tricked the scientists about the omens. That's what my associate has gone to report. The Golden Age is coming faster than anyone knows. You have to believe me. You have to get those men out of there."

Ozlack goggled a moment, and she waited for him to grab her and bodily expel her from his operation. Instead, he sagged slightly.

"Look, miss. I'm sure you believe that those men are in danger, and if they were I'd pull them out. I would. But I been mining longer than you've been breathing, and I know a thing or two about—"

He was interrupted by a buzz from his control console. He looked vaguely perturbed, but strode over and punched a button. From the speaker on the console emerged the sounds of bustling activity. Rose edged closer to listen in.

"Ozlack here."

"Foreman Ozlack? This is Ensign Venton from the Bridge. We are a go for the new Golden Age in t-minus ten minutes. Confirm."

Ozlack shot Rose an incredulous glance, but quickly turned back to the console. The beginnings of worry were coloring his tone, "Negative. Our drill is still blocked. I have men in the Hollow working on it."

"Well, you better get your men out of there, Foreman. The demat—er…that is, the Golden Age is starting. We can't do anything to stop it."

Rose was on the verge of giving the Foreman a big, fat "I told you so", when an exchange in the background of the broadcast caught her attention.

"_No, Doctor," _a man's condescending voice was saying_, "not whilst we have the psychic interference transmitter."_

Rose caught Ozlack's sleeve before he could cut off the com.

"_What, that?"_ responded another man in a rich baritone.

"_Yes, yes. You see, whilst that is fully operational the Mentiads are powerless,"_ the condescending man paused. Ozlack was looking at Rose in confusion, and she could hear the Ensign on the other end of the com asking if there was anything else the Foreman. She couldn't quite make out the next exchange, but it sounded like it had something to do with the door. Just before Ozlack shook off her grip and shut down the com, she heard a third man shout_"Stop Him!"_ in a booming voice.

Doctor? The Doctor? _Her_ Doctor? She hadn't recognized any of the voices, but she greatly doubted that the name she'd heard mentioned was just a coincidence. Wonderful. He'd managed to get himself caught or in some kind of jam, and now she'd have to go and rescue him. She wavered between exasperation and vindication. Served him right for leaving her behind.

"Looks like you were right," the foreman was conceding grudgingly, "Sorry I doubted you, miss. Narell!" he called down the drill well, "emergency extraction. We're winching you back up. Hang on," he looked back at Rose, "You ever work a winch before? No? Well, I suppose you'll have to go down and get the miners instead. You'll need gear." He moved quickly, handing her a map, helmet and lamp, then began flipping switches on the control panel. The winch jerked into reverse.

"Wait, what? Go down there? Don't you have a com-system or something? Can't you call them back that way?"

Ozlack looked at her like she was daft, "Com-system? With that much geo-interference?" He shook his head, "No, we have to do things the old-fashioned way down in the Hollow. Don't worry. Shouldn't take you more than a few minutes to get down there. Once you bring the men back up to the mid-levels you'll be safe." A beeping sounded from the console and Ozlack turned to fiddle with it. Rose hesitated. The Doctor needed her, but apparently so did the miners.

"But my friend, the one I came with, he's…" she paused, reluctant to let the Foreman know that she and the Doctor weren't exactly on the up and up, "he needs me up at the Bridge to…to advise him."

"Miss," the foreman fixed her with a stern gaze, "If I leave this winch, Narell might get stuck and die. We don't have the most up-to-date equipment in case you hadn't noticed. If somebody doesn't go down and get those men, they'll die. Just tell them I said it was an emergency extraction. I'm certain your friend can do without you for a few extra minutes."

Rose dithered a moment longer, then resolutely clamped the helmet on her head and switched on the lamp.

"Right. You're right," she turned and hurried towards the basket lift, muttering under her breath, "Looks like I'm gonna save some canaries after all."

--------------------------------------

The Doctor paused in his escape from the Bridge to open the closet where he'd stashed Sergeant Grieg.

"Sergeant," he explained as he hopped into the skiff, before the startled guard could do anything more than stand, "This entire planet is about to suffer major earthquakes that will kill most of the people on the Bridge. In about an hour the Bridge is going to be blown to bits. Now, you could shoot me or take me captive or try to stop all this, but if I were you I'd leave this place, find whoever it is you care about, and make sure you all are safe before the world comes tumbling down…or out…or in. Got it?" He grinned when the confused guard nodded, "Fantastic!"

The Doctor slid the throttle forward, guiding the skiff away from the Bridge. He kept low, even though he was traveling in the opposite direction of his Fourth self and Romana. One close call had already been one too many.

He sensed trouble the moment he landed at the mining facility. He could see the Foreman working at the drill platform, but of the other miners and Rose there was no sign. Leaping from the skiff he jogged over to the Foreman.

"Where's Rose?" the Doctor demanded.

The Foreman was in the process of helping a young, weedy-looking boy climb out of the well and free himself from a complicated harness. The boy glanced up at Rose's name, a look of puppy-dog adoration on his features. The Doctor contained a snort. Another conquest for his Rose. He'd swear she collected them across space and time like those pokey-cards. The boy's face fell when he realized there was no blonde in sight. The Doctor jostled the foreman's arm.

"She's just gone into the mines to warn the miners…get them out of the Hollow before—"

"She went into the mine!" the Doctor interrupted with rising alarm Of all the stupid, impetuous…he'd told her that the mines were dangerous, that they were going to…or had he? Cursing himself, he began sprinting towards the lift, checking his watch. Three minutes. He had three minutes before the tremors started, before the unstable crust of the hollow planet was bombarded by the effects of a transmat materialization convergence, before Rose was caught in a deathtrap of his making.

Frantic, he began pounding on the lift call button. He had to get her out of there.

----------------------------

Rose hurried through the lower levels of the mine, checking from time to time the map Ozlack had given her, although the noise of the miners was becoming more distinct.

"Hey!" she shouted, "Pisser? Anyone?" a light flashed from a steeply sloping shaft and she scrambled down towards it.

She emerged on a sturdy, iron scaffolding that had been embedded into the stone walls. The vast expanse of darkness above, below and all around her caused her to stumble slightly in awe. She grasped the railing of the scaffold as she was hit by a strong wave of vertigo. A gnarled hand reached out to support her, turning her gently away from the black nothingness.

"Breathe," Pisser's gravelly voice instructed.

"Yeah," she gasped, fixing her gaze on the rock wall, the corridor from which she'd come. She tried to stammer an apology for her reaction, but Pisser just cut her off.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "happens to everyone. Nobody ever gets completely used to it. Some men never get over it. Me, I've come to find it a little comforting. S'like looking into the face of God or something. Reminds you how small and insignificant you are."

She got the feeling he was not really considering his words…that he was just nattering on to give her time to recover. Something about what he said unearthed a deeply buried memory. _No_, she wanted to say, _God's face is suffused with golden light, not impenetrable blackness. Looking on it doesn't make you feel small. It reminds you that you're part of something bigger._ She didn't speak, but the anchorless memory bolstered her. She straightened and this time when the black swam into view at the edge of her vision, she didn't flinch.

With the momentary vertigo overcome, she recalled her original mission in coming down here. Pisser and the other miners were gazing at her with various levels of curiosity and expectation.

"Foreman Ozlack. He sent me down to warn you. He just got a call from the Bridge people. The Hollow's going to be filled in," she glanced at her watch, "about three minutes. We have to get out of here. It's an emergency whatsit."

"Extraction?"

"Yeah."

Pisser looked around at the miners, all of whom looked shocked, "Well, you heard the lass, men. Pack it up." Startled into motion, the miners grabbed their gear and moved quickly to the corridor. Pisser and Rose hurried to bring up the rear.

The trip back out went much more quickly since Rose didn't have to be constantly checking her rough map. She knew the instant they reached the safety of the mid-levels because all of the miners seemed to relax, their pace slowing from the previous urgency. She could tell they were nearing the main tunnel and the lift out when she heard a shout in a familiar Northern accent.

"Rose!"

She smiled. Apparently she hadn't needed to rescue him after all. His lean form appeared at the mouth of the tunnel they were traversing, and her stomach did an odd flip-flop at seeing him. She ruthlessly tamped down on the reaction at the same time that she flashed him her widest grin. The grin dimmed as she realized he wasn't grinning back – was instead frantically gesturing for them all to hurry.

"Run!" he shouted.

Before she had the chance to react, in the brief second between thought and action, the world began to collapse.

"Doctor!" she screamed as she was thrown against Pisser and both of them were knocked to the ground. Most of the miners had been knocked over by the sudden, massive tremors that shook the tunnel. She tried to scramble up, to regain her footing, to move forward, but the unstable ground made it difficult. She heard a groan beneath her and realized that in cushioning her fall Pisser had knocked his head against a rocky outcropping.

"Pisser!" she braced her hand against the wall, which helped to steady her slightly, and helped the groggy miner to rise, guiding him against the wall as well. She grunted from the mans weight and another miner assisted her, draping Pisser's arm over his shoulders and supporting him at the waist. Small rocks and rubble began to rain down from above as the shaking grew progressively worse.

Then the Doctor was at her side, wrapping long arms about her, hugging her so tightly she worried a moment about being able to breath. He pulled back slightly and grinned, as if they weren't trapped underground in the middle of a massive earthquake.

"What have you been up to? Keeping yourself out of trouble?"

"Just saving some canaries. You?"

"Nothing as exciting as this. I miss out on all the fun," as quickly as it had appeared, his humor was gone, replaced by deadly seriousness, "we have to get out of here before the whole place collapses. The shaking's only going to get worse. Think you can make it to the TARDIS?"

"What about them?" she motioned to the miners, who had managed to get to their feet and were making a stumbling passage up the tunnel towards the lift, "we can't just leave them…what if the shaft collapses."

"Right," the Doctor threaded his fingers through hers and they both lurched their way forward, using the wall to steady them, "You lot! You'll never make it out that way. Follow me." He turned the opposite direction from the lift shaft, back towards where they'd left the TARDIS, tugging on Rose's hand when she paused to see if the miners were following.

The men had hesitated at the junction, vacillating between a known egress that was sure to be unsafe and the promise of the unknown. It was Pisser, still being supported by one of his fellow miners, who decided them.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm following the Inspector and Miss Rose. They're the experts down here."

Rose beamed at the old man, and then they were all rushing down the corridor towards safety. She and the Doctor stumbled several times, and she could hear the miners behind them struggling to keep up. At one point the Doctor practically yanked her arm out of its socket to pull her aside from a large tumble of falling boulders. She fell into him, knocking him into the cave wall, and they both fought to keep breath and footing. Then the corridor opened up and they were racing across the cavern to the safety of the blue police box. Crystal mushroom light danced crazily off the walls and the ground lurched even more violently beneath them. Without the walls to lend support, their dash became a graceless scrambling.

The Doctor threw open the doors of the TARDIS, ushering her and the miners inside and slamming it shut. Several miners collapsed on the grating, their legs unaccustomed to the sudden steadiness of the ground after so much shaking. Rose pulled her way up the ramp after the Doctor, supporting herself with the railing. Making it to the captain's chair, she sank bonelessly into the cushions and watched as the Doctor checked the TARDIS's controls. After a moment, he sank down beside her. She leaned into him, using his physical presence to remind her that they were both okay. His arm slid around her waist, and for the briefest moment she thought she felt his lips brush the top of her head. She pulled back, sure she must have been mistaken.

"Looks like the entire shaft has collapsed. We'll have to dematerialize to the surface. It'll be a few moments before it's safe to do that," the Doctor said quietly. Rose glanced over to the miners, most of whom were only just now noticing the ship's unusual dimensions. Only Pisser seemed to have fully recovered, and was hobbling his way over to them.

"What is this place?" He asked.

"Special mining lift," the Doctor replied, rising again, "reinforced against tremors. It'll have us back on the surface in no time,"

"Hmm,' he glanced around skeptically, "awfully roomy for a lift. Guess it's part of those benefits you were talking about, huh miss?" It took Rose a moment to realize he was referring to her earlier talks about unionizing. She struggled with an answer, but the Doctor was much quicker on the uptake.

"Oh, yes. Remarkable what workers can accomplish if you lot band together. Not to mention the importance of being connected to the products of your labor. You should consider what Rose told you," the Doctor was pulling levers now, and Rose could feel the subtle vibrations of the TARDIS in flight. Amazingly, there was none of the usual shaking about, just a gentle, almost imperceptible rocking. The rocking stopped and the Doctor strode back down the ramp. Rose and Pisser followed.

"It's going to be a different world out there," the Doctor was saying, "you need to take care of it. Be careful not to over-mine it. Sustainable use of resources, that's what you need to get accustomed to. But you'll do fine," he clapped Pisser on the shoulder, then flung open the doors. Pale sunlight streamed in, and outside Rose could see grassy hills and in the distance a town of squat buildings.

The miners filed out, Pisser nodding contemplatively at the Doctor's words. Unexpectedly, the old man turned and engulfed Rose in an awkward hug.

"Thanks for coming for us, Miss. We'd have been dead if it weren't for you."

Rose squeezed him back, "Naw, don't think anything of it. You just take care and make sure you don't let anyone get away with treating the miners like they have been, okay?"

"Will do, miss," he tugged his cap and began to walk away, then turned back to her, "Oh, and miss…my name? It's Pinzer."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," she responded, flushing guiltily, but he had already smiled and turned away. Rose closed the doors to the TARDIS and turned back to the console room. The Doctor was leaning casually against one of the supports, arms and legs crossed, small smile on his lips.

"I was right. You collect them."

"What's this? Collect what?" he just grinned wider, "What do I collect?"

He still didn't answer. She strode back up the ramp and planted herself in front of him, "C'mon, tell. What do you mean?" She pushed against his shoulder.

"Just you and your boyfriends, scattered across the universe."

"What, him?" She gestured back towards the door, "He's old enough to be my father. My grandfather, even."

"Oh, so age gaps are a problem for you?"

Any response she might have made choked in her throat. That jibe had been a little too close for her comfort. She vividly recalled words she'd spoken to him so long ago, on the top of one of the Council Estate buildings – _That is one hell of an age gap._ She wanted to assure him that, no, where he was concerned age gaps didn't matter a whit.

"So," she floundered for another topic, "mission accomplished then? We on to the next one?"

"We could do, but you might want to shower and change," she glanced down to see that she had been turned a uniform pale white from the mine dust, looking back up just in time to catch his smirk.

"Don't you laugh at me. You don't look any better, you know. You could be a distant cousin of the Cliffs of Dover," she reached up with both hands to brush pale dust from the shoulders of his jacket, then her hands moved to his hair, ruffling it slightly. She smiled as a cloud of the dust rose above his head. Then she realized that he had a darker smudge of dust along one cheek, and it seemed perfectly reasonable to rub at it gently with her thumb.

Then she realized that she'd had to move quite close to reach up to him, her chest practically brushing against his. And she realized that he wasn't moving. Or blinking. Or breathing.

Oh, bollocks.

She gulped, eyes suddenly wide as they met his intense gaze. Her hands fluttered down to her sides. His reached up to frame her face. She self-consciously moistened her lips and she saw his eyes dart down briefly to track the movement of her tongue.

"Rose," he began. His voice was rough.

"I—"

Her phone rang.

Blessing whatever force in the universe protected her from making a complete fool of herself, Rose pulled away from his touch, ducking her head as much to break eye contact as to dig the bleating device from her pocket. She flipped it open to check the display.

"S'Mickey," she mumbled, "wonder what he wants. Hello?" she spoke into the receiver. She listened to Mickey's rambling explanation, trying to ignore the Doctor as he moved away from her and began puttering at the console. It was difficult given that her entire body seemed tuned to his presence, the slightest shift in his movement. After a few minutes, she closed the phone. The Doctor was leaning over the console, examining the view screen intently, but she wondered how much of that was an act.

"He says there's something going on at one of the local schools. Something about lights in the sky and UFO sightings, and weird behavior, and maybe some kids disappearing," she hesitated to ask, but finally forged ahead, "think we should check it out?"

"Well, if Ricky says it's a problem—"

"Mickey," she inserted futilely.

"—then by all means, let's rush to investigate the minutiae of everyday existence on Earth."

"Look, there's no need to get tetchy," she began, "I just thought—"

"What? That your boyfriend hearing about a couple of pretty lights in the sky was more important than saving the entire universe from the ripple energy that **you** unleashed?"

A half-dozen angry, defensive retorts leapt to mind, but when she opened her mouth, her voice was soft, tentative, "There's kids involved, Doctor."

His mouth worked, but eventually settled into a grimace, shoulders sagging, "Oh, fine. We'll check it out," he began flipping controls, and the rotor began pumping and wheezing, "but don't blame me if this detour ends up taking longer than we expected."

Rose smiled tightly. She just hoped that by the end of it, they'd both have forgotten about the moment when she'd nearly ruined everything.


	10. Tea and Some Kind of Pathy

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**--------------------------------**

**Chapter 9 – Tea and Some Kind of -Pathy**

_wither and die_

Rose was in the TARDIS' food preparation area, cradling a mug of tea and trying to escape her thoughts. She couldn't quite bring herself to call it a kitchen; it didn't have the homey, warm domesticity of her mum's kitchen. She rather doubted that cookies had ever been baked here, or boyfriends cried over, or neighbors gossiped about. There weren't any pithy icebox magnets on the subject of dieting or dinner reservations, no cupboards filled with obscure spices used once and never again. The Doctor didn't do domestic, and this place was proof. It was all sleek counters and streamlined dispensers. It was a food preparation area. She closed her eyes, gripped her tea, and tried to pretend it was a kitchen.

_humans decay. you wither and you die_

It was late, at least by the relative standards she tried to keep on the TARDIS so that she wouldn't suffer from sleep disruption. The Doctor had disappeared into the depths of the ship shortly after taking them into the Vortex, leaving her to show Mickey to a room and get him settled. Mickey had needed a lot of settling. It had taken almost two hours for her to extract herself with increasingly large staged yawns. When she'd finally escaped to her own room and bedded down, it was to spend hours restlessly tossing and turning. Her mind had replayed the Doctor's words from the previous evening over and over. She relived meeting Sarah Jane. She dissected every exchange of word or glance between herself and the Doctor since Zanak, and she'd come to some rather startling conclusions in her sleepless bed.

He wanted her.

He wanted her, and he would never do anything about it. He wanted her, but he was terrified of losing her. He wanted her, but he was uncomfortable with the threat of domestication she implied. He wanted her, but he didn't know how to handle **her** wanting **him**, as he hadn't known how to handle Sarah Jane's wanting. _And probably a long line of others_, Rose thought with a grimace as she sipped her tea. He'd avoided answering that particular question, but she knew in her gut it was true.

When he'd invited Mickey to travel with them (or rather, stood by and said little while Mickey and Sarah Jane arranged it), Rose realized that having multiple traveling companions wasn't a diversion for the Doctor, it served as a distraction **from** the Doctor. The Doctor could nudge the interactions of the people around him to ensure a certain distance from himself. She recalled how things had been with Jack. Easygoing, fun, less intense, less intimate. She now suspected it had been a deliberate dodge on the Doctor's part. She also understood better why he'd let Adam come along. Given her new insight, she was rather surprised he'd been against Mickey joining them after the first Slitheen attack.

"Right," she snorted softly into the silence of the not-kitchen, "900-year-old alien Time Lord, and I reduce his psychology to a bunch of intimacy issues. Bet there's a quiz in Cosmo. Brilliant deduction, Rose, you git." She took a gulp of tea, which was fast becoming lukewarm, shaking her head over the absurdity.

And yet…

_You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of my life with you._

It wasn't such a ridiculous leap, was it?

She'd eventually drifted off into a fitful doze, but sleep wasn't any safer a refuge for her mind. She'd dreamed. She'd dreamed of the black abyss she'd seen in the Hollow. It had been a horrible emptiness, like a void in her head devouring the universe around it. She'd dreamed of it filling with golden light that expanded like a thousand suns. She'd dreamed of all reality dissolved into motes dancing in the light of those suns, like the dust she'd brushed from the Doctor's jacket and hair. In her dream, the superphone didn't ring. He kissed her and the world was flooded with light. She heard him say "_you wither and you die_," and she felt it happening. She saw the water-snake balanced gently in her hand and heard a voice, her own yet not, respond "_everything dies._" She saw legions of Daleks flooding the world, she heard their rallying cry "_Exterminate_", and then, strangely, a reply in an echo of electronic voices– Jack's, the Doctor's, her own – "_Delete_".

She'd woken in a cold sweat, gulping down terror.

So now she was seated in the not-kitchen, drinking lukewarm tea, failing in her attempts to avoid both waking and sleeping thoughts, and wondering how big a wobbly the Doctor would throw if she brought in one of Great Aunt Marion's hand-knitted tea cozies.

----------------------------

_wither and die_

The Doctor stretched out beneath the secondary console of the TARDIS, long face illuminated by the dim service lights and the blue glow of his sonic screwdriver. There were always repairs to make; a classic like the Type 40 needed regular attention to keep her in prime condition. It was a good thing given his love for puttering. He sometimes fancied that she fried her connections or misrouted the odd circuit just to give him something to do – like a lady dropping a handkerchief. It was a comfortable old game of flirtation that they played. But tonight he'd run a full diagnostic and found nothing wrong. Carefully closing the casing for the secondary console power dampeners, he finally conceded that his TARDIS was miffed with him. He clicked the sonic screwdriver off with a sigh as the memory of the words he'd spoken to Rose the previous evening intruded…again.

_humans decay. you wither and you die_

It was late. He'd escaped from the company of the two humans hours before, on the pretext of having to make repairs. Rose had rolled her eyes in disbelief at the excuse as he'd exited, but he tamped down on any guilt he might have felt abandoning her with Mickey. She was the one who insisted on stringing her pseudo-ex-boyfriend along, and he'd only agreed to let Mickey come because of that; let her deal with getting him settled.

Obviously, she had gotten him settled. The TARDIS was quiet. The Doctor wondered if…but he knew it wasn't really his business to wonder any such if.

It could have been. He'd been so relieved to see her safe after the disaster in the Hollow of Zanak that he'd almost closed the distance he maintained between them. He had been so shaken by seeing Sarah Jane again and learning how disgruntled she felt that he'd nearly revealed the depths of his feelings to Rose. But he'd held back, withdrawn on both occasions, because he already knew she wouldn't understand. She would want promises that he could never make, loyalty that he could never offer. He could never plight her his troth; he had long ago given himself to the universe. Just the Doctor, and his TARDIS, and whoever happened to join him, for as long as they would stay.

He sat up, closing his eyes and dropping his head to his knees at that thought. However long she would stay, it wouldn't be long enough. He had suffered so many losses, so many friends gone, and now he was confronted with all the things that threatened to tear them apart. It was more than just the everyday danger they faced. It was Mickey and Jackie; it was Rose's insistence on keeping one foot firmly planted at home even as she traveled with him. It was the threat of the ripples, and of Time snapping back in such a way that they would be permanently separated, as they had been when he was on the Game Station and she was back home. And it was the inevitable organic clock of her body, counting down to doomsday.

_I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords._

He needed to stop, set boundaries, move them back to the footing they'd enjoyed before. In the morning – or, rather, the time he'd scheduled as morning so that Rose could follow a healthy sleep cycle – he'd set the coordinates for Cornwall and the third piece of the Key to Time. Now that he knew what the Key was he could slip into Vivian Fey's cottage and get the readings on the seal before she ever encountered his previous regeneration. In the meantime, he would set aside brooding and concentrate on acting normally around Rose.

Feeling his dour mood lift slightly in the face of a plan, the Doctor left the secondary console room in search of tea.

-------------------------------------

Rose heard a scuffling at the doorway and looked up to see the Doctor leaning against the frame. His posture was casual, but she could see a tension about his shoulders, eyes and mouth. He was in his usual jacket and jumper. She tugged at her rumpled sleeping attire – t-shirt and drawstring cotton trousers – feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"Hello," he offered.

"Hello," she smiled slightly. Intimacy issues. Right. "Would you like a cuppa?" she asked, rising to put on the kettle as if he'd already agreed.

He hesitated a moment, then moved into the room, sitting next to the chair she'd just vacated, "well, if you're making. Four minutes, milk, two su—"

"I know," she puttered until the water heated, then fixed their teas to order and placed his mug before him. Settling in her seat, she cradled her own mug before her like a shield. He had watched her silently through the whole process.

"You're up late," he ventured, which caused her to smile again slightly. As safe introductory statements went, it was up there with "Nice night for it" and "Cold, innit?".

She cocked her head, considering him. It was little moments like these that she held back, shied away, second-guessed herself, kept things light and non-intrusive. And he let her. Back before London, the 1940's London, she'd been oblivious to it, blundering through the barriers he tried to erect. He'd become more subtle and she'd become more tentative. Well, not any more.

"Bad dream. After I showed Mickey to a room," she shot him a significant glance, letting him know in no uncertain terms that the room was not hers, "I couldn't sleep. And then when I did, I had this dream. Nightmare, really."

A look, part concern and part interested curiosity, flitted across his features, "Had any other nightmares recently?"

"Naw. I don't get nightmares, not since I was a kid. I thought I would, especially after…well, what happened with my dad. But this one, I think it was cause of something that happened on Zanak, when I was down in the mines. I think I remembered something – something about Satellite Five. There was this moment when I was in the Hollow and everything was just dark and I felt, I dunno, like something horrible was out there. But then I remembered seeing this golden light and I didn't feel so…empty and alone anymore. Is that weird?"

Now he definitely looked interested, "No, it's not. You heard the guards talking about the Mentiads?" At her nod, he continued, "they're telepaths. Their psychic abilities were catalyzed by the deaths of all those planets, all those people. They were literally bombarded with the dying life-forces of billions of people over generations, and it awakened their latent telepathic abilities."

"Life forces?" Rose raised one skeptical eyebrow, "sounds a bit odd." The Doctor raised his brow even further.

"Oh, is it so hard to believe? You lot think your science can explain anything, but you've only just begun to scratch the surface. Haven't even begun to connect the dots. What's life except a bunch of bioelectrical impulses animating an organic matrix? Your sense organs take in data, your brain processes it, and then sends signals to your muscles to do something about it. Get enough of that bioelectric energy released in one place…well, it's bound to build up a charge.

"So, what?" her brow furrowed, "you're saying I'm a telepath now?"

His hand lifted towards her face, almost as if by reflex, but he quickly pulled it back, "No, I wouldn't think so. But maybe you picked up a little on the residual bioelectricity. You felt the aftermath of all those people dying. You said you dreamed about it?"

"Yeah. It's silly, actually. I just…dreamed about this golden light, and all these…particles I guess, drifting on it. I dreamed that we were on Satellite Five and you," she paused, decided she wasn't that daring, and glossed over the dream-kiss, "you said 'you wither and you die', and I said 'everything dies', and then there were Daleks everywhere and they said…well, you know. And then I heard these other voices, like yours and mine but more…electronic, right? And they all said 'delete'. And I woke up." Repeating the dream made her feel even more foolish. There was nothing in it that should have been so upsetting. Even so, the Doctor looked suddenly arrested. And worried.

"What is it, Doctor?"

He shook his head as if to dispel her concerned tone, but the look didn't leave his face, "It's nothing. It's nothing," at her arched brow, he amended, "alright, probably nothing. You're right, it sounds like you're remembering a bit, maybe something got shaken loose by your being around all that residual energy. It all sounds familiar, except that last part. I just wonder…" He trailed off, his eyes unfocused. She waited, but he didn't continue.

"Wonder what, Doctor?" she goaded.

"I wonder if you might be remembering the future."

"That's bad, is it?"

She saw in his eyes he was about to comfort her with a blanket denial, saw the moment he changed his mind and decided to tell her the truth, "Could be. Depends on what's causing it. If it's linked to your time as Bad Wolf, then yeah, it's bad. It'll mean that the ripple energy is getting worse and that you're a central focus for—"

"Is there any way to find out what's causing it? See if it's Bad Wolf or something else?" she interrupted before he could get into another explanation she'd only sort of understand.

He looked down at his hands, silently contemplating them for several heartbeats. He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something unpleasant, "there is a way. But I'd have to…that is, you'd be—"

"Do it."

"You don't even know what it is."

"I trust you," she said simply. He searched her eyes, and she met his gaze steadily.

"Alright," he said, lifting his hand to the side of her face, "close your eyes."

Her lids lowered and for a moment the vista behind them was a pale emptiness, lightened by the illumination of the not-kitchen. Then she felt something, like a wind through her mind, and everything was plunged into a velvet darkness.

She sensed the Doctor, standing in the darkness with her. He took her hand in his.

_I'm here. I'm just going to look at the dream, and then I'll leave._

He moved away through the darkness, and she could feel him rifling through her dream. She felt him pause briefly as he came to their kiss, and for a moment the darkness grew warm and red, and there was a rushing sound like water or blood. She felt him calm and cool around her, _It's alright, Rose. Just a moment longer_. Even so, she pulled away from him a little. She was too exposed in this place.

She looked around, hoping to find something to focus on that wasn't herself, so that she wouldn't become any more exposed. She spied a glimmer in her mind's eye and cautiously approached it. It resolved into a door, limned in golden light, just a little ajar. Somehow she knew it was the entry into him. She started forward eagerly, but then hesitated. There was overcoming intimacy issues, and then there was stomping all over where you weren't invited. Intrusion. Invasion. She had let him in, but he hadn't reciprocated. Resolutely, she turned away from the door. Someday. Someday he'd invite her through. She could wait.

As she turned away, she realized the door was already closing, the darkness lessening. She was seated at the table again, her knees bumping the Doctors as he leaned close to her. He slipped his hand from her face as the briefest wisp of apology brushed her mind. She opened her eyes. A gaggle of comments intended to defuse the awkwardness of the situation jockeyed for her attention, but in the end she just leaned into him. His arms folded around her in a tight embrace.

"Is it bad?" she whispered into the warmth of his jumper.

"Yeah," he sighed over her head, "it's bad."


	11. The Long Way

In this chapter I shamelessly revise canon and motivations to deal with what I think are two major problems of TGITF.

1. If Rose and Reinette could hear Reinette calling through the fireplace for the Doctor's help, then claiming that it was 'offline' later seems pretty implausible.

2. Nine wouldn't just abandon Rose.

I hope nobody reading this minds the tweaking.

Still AU for S2, still a Nine/Rose.

All that being said, I own nothing, but I wouldn't mind ten minutes alone in the TARDIS.

**Chapter 10 – The Long Way**

"You have to go to her."

They were standing on the deck of the abandoned ship, just down the corridor from where they had landed in the TARDIS a few hours before. At least this time they knew it wasn't Cornwall before they stepped out onto the deck of the ship. Rose had commented that she was beginning to believe that Cornwall didn't exist. The Doctor had made a comment about conspiring cartographers that had sent him into helpless laughter while Mickey and she looked on confused. He had grimaced and grumbled about illiterate apes before leading them both outside to determine where exactly the TARDIS **had** landed.

The Doctor wasn't laughing now. Rose had just returned from giving her warning to the 18th century woman whose life seemed to be the sole concentration and purpose of this ship. The warning could have gone better. Although Rose had tried to stop the other woman, Reinette had stepped through the time window and onto the deck of the ship. They had both heard her voice calling through another portal – the fireplace by the sound of it – calling for the Doctor to come save her. That was when Rose realized the depth of the other girl's feelings for him. She wanted to hate the Frenchwoman, but she understood too well. Reinette was right, just as Sarah Jane had been right; the Doctor was worth both the monsters and the heartbreak.

As roadblocks went, she had to step aside from her own feelings of hurt and confusion to admit that the Doctor had pulled out all the stops this time. He'd all but bodily shoved Reinette between himself and Rose. Reinette. Madame de Pompadour. The uncrowned Queen of France, he'd called her. The term "no competition" flitted through Rose's head. How could she ever measure up to that?

But when she stepped aside from her hurt and confusion, she was also able to see some other glaringly obvious things. Wither and die? Reinette would too. And she was a major figure in history, not exactly free to go tramping about the universe with him on a moment's whim. Not exactly someone he could settle down with either, even if he did do domestic. In other words, Reinette was safe. Rose was willing to concede that the Doctor had probably fallen in love with the other woman, but she could see how the impossibility of her situation made it easy for him. Another mark for the hypothetical intimacy issues quiz.

The Doctor was staring impotently through the reinforced glass to the 18th century French ballroom below. He had just finished explaining to her and Mickey why he couldn't go through the portal or use the transmat to get through. Not that she understood most of it, but she trusted that he had thought through everything and knew there wasn't an easy solution. If there had been, he would have come up with it; he was clever like that.

At her words, he looked sharply at her.

"What?"

"She needs you Doctor. She's counting on you. You can't let her down. You have to go," Rose voiced the conundrum she knew he was agonizing over.

"Rose, didn't you hear what I just said? If I break through that glass, there's no coming back. It'll shatter the network of time windows, and that'll be it. I'm done for. I'll be stuck in that time."

"So why don't we just break it from this side?" Mickey piped in, "Leave those clockwork things there. If it's broken, they can't teleport or whatever back to this place, right? If they can't do that, there's not much point in them killing her for her brain, is there?" he paused, "What? Why are you looking at me like I'm mental?" Rose and the Doctor had both turned and were giving him a frighteningly similar "stupid-ape" look.

"Oh, brilliant idea. Fantastic," the Doctor paced away from the mirror-window, then turned back towards Mickey, "but who's going to tell **them** they can't come back? They won't be able to use her brain to fix the ship, but. She'll. Still. Be. Dead." He punctuated each word with a vicious jab of his finger towards the scene below that was still playing out.

"Also," Rose added, though more gently than the Doctor, "that's 51st century tech down there in 18th century France. It could change all sorts of things, and muck up the timeline something terrible. We couldn't just leave it there," she came around the Doctor's side, laying a hand gently on his leather-clad arm, "What would you do if it were me?" she asked, "Would you go?"

His eyes snapped to hers, "Yes. Without hesitation."

Their gazes held quietly for a moment. Whatever was going on between her and the Doctor had been getting more confused and uncomfortable since the events on Satellite 5. First the kiss with Cassandra, then through meeting Sarah Jane, his former…whatever. Now this thing with Reinette.

It was strange for her, coming to the realization that he loved people differently than how she'd always believed love worked, how she'd always been told love should be. He'd said he didn't do domestic, but she was only now realizing the extent of what that meant. It was a hard admission to come to, to be able to step up and let him be who he was without requiring explanations or making demands. She thought about Mickey, about all his snarky comments and jealousy of the Doctor. She thought about how much easier it would be for her to love Mickey if he would just accept that her relationship with the Doctor was…special, and didn't have anything to do with her relationship with Mickey. Knowing that, she knew what she needed to do. Rose gathered herself up, squeezing his arm before releasing it.

"You have to go to her," she said with acceptance and determination, "She loves you, Doctor. She's waiting for you to save her from the monsters. You promised her you'd be there. You have to go."

"Rose," his tone was desperate, anguished, "I promised you, too. I promised I'd never abandon you again, that I'd keep you safe. I can't—"

"Yes, you can," she interrupted, "you're the Doctor. You can do anything. You'll save her, and you'll find a way back here," she suddenly recalled something Reinette had said in their conversation, and her voice lowered to a sad whisper, "even if you have to take the long way." They were both distracted from their intensity by a sound from the other side of the mirror. The clockworks had forced Reinette to her knees and were holding their strange cutters to her throat. The Doctor glanced back at Rose.

"Go," she said.

He hesitated a moment more, and she knew he was trying to determine how much she really meant it. He must have seen in her eyes that she was resolute. He whirled, mounting the white horse and jumping it through the portal. Rose flinched away from the shattering glass. When she looked up, the portal was gone and she was looking at the ship corridor on the other side. She stared at the empty area, not quite able to take everything in. It was one thing to bravely tell him to save the damsel, quite another to realize that thousands of years now separated them, that she was stranded on the abandoned station with a sputtering Mickey, and that the Doctor had no time machine to return to her.

"He left us!" Rose ignored Mickey's first outburst. Even knowing the Doctor was going to go, even **telling** him to go, she had to admit that the actuality of it was a bit startling.

"He left us," Mickey repeated, "what are we supposed to do now?"

"Now? We wait," Rose began making her way back to the main control room, where they had first arrived in the TARDIS. Mickey trailed behind her, gibbering questions. She closed her eyes briefly. It was going to be a long wait.

Over the next several hours, Rose maintained her own calm through working to calm Mickey. After she'd exhausted her store of card games, gossip and cheery chatter, he began to get antsy. At his suggestion, they checked all the portals, ensuring that they were indeed all closed, that the network was irrevocably offline. She knew Mickey was trying to help, but somehow the act of confirming that the Doctor wouldn't be returning by the same means with which he left only made the waiting worse. Her shoulders were sagging in dejection by the time they returned to the chamber with the TARDIS.

"Well, that's just brilliant. He goes off to make time with some French bird and leaves us stranded here to die."

"Mickey, shut it," Rose began rubbing her temples.

"No. You keep defending him, but he doesn't care about you. He just left us like it was nothing."

"Mickey…"

"And you just keep making excuses. You're waiting for him to look at you and see you, but it isn't going to happen—"

"Mickey, be quiet," Rose strained her ears, listening for a sound growing at the edge of her hearing.

"Don't you see? He doesn't see you. He's never going to—hold on," he quieted as he picked up on the same distant noise. They looked at each other in amazement, then at the TARDIS, which was still standing in the corner of the control room in all its solid, blue glory.

They scrambled up, dashing out of the room and towards the scraping, wheezing sound they both knew so well.

Rose arrived first, skidding to a stop just in time to see the same familiar blue box fading away. Silhouetted against it with his back to her, sonic screwdriver pointed in command, was the familiar form of her Doctor – battered leather jacket, big ears and all. She was struggling to utter some witty greeting when Mickey barreled into her, turning her words into a gargled "oof".

The Doctor turned towards them, and Rose was arrested by his eyes. He seemed…different. The hollow-eyed loneliness that had been mostly banished by her presence was now returned in full force, accompanied by a desperate, almost hungry look as he searched her features.

"How long did you wait?" She was surprised by his question, but didn't even need to look at her watch for the answer.

"Five and a half hours," she couldn't keep the relieved smile from her face, any more than she could hide the catch in her voice. He'd done it. He'd found a way to return to her.

"Wait a moment," Mickey interrupted, "How did you get here? Where'd that TARDIS come from? We left the other one upstairs. Whose was that?" The Doctor glanced back at the empty space where Mickey had gestured, the place where the other TARDIS had disappeared from.

"Mine," he answered, turning back to them, "one of the benefits of visiting Earth a lot, I suppose. And of having a habit of wandering off and leaving a police-box-shaped time machine in the middle of Boston Common. Easy as anything to nip in, take it for a joyride, and send it back before anyone – namely me – is the wiser."

"I knew you'd figure a way. You're so clever," Rose said softly.

"Yeah. That's me. Clever." The hollowness she'd seen in his eyes had migrated to his voice. Her heart ached to hear it, even moreso as the importance of his earlier question suddenly occurred to her.

"How long?" she asked him, already fearing the answer was a great deal more than five hours. Her poor Doctor, "How long for you?"

"Too long," the loneliness in his eyes was fast being replaced by the hunger. Suddenly, he was striding across the room toward her, grabbing her roughly, desperately, like a lifeline.

And then he was kissing her. She was so stunned that she stood stock still for a moment, blinking in astonishment past his ear, not quite believing what was happening. The Doctor was kissing her. And she was just standing there like a ninny. She closed her eyes and slid into the kiss with a sigh.

He bent her to him, his frame all lonely hunger and lean strength. She could taste desperation behind the warm recesses of his mouth. It wasn't a sweet kiss; it was lips and tongues and teeth and devouring – hungry in a way she didn't quite know how to sate. His long fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her head as he sought to fill himself from her mouth. She slid her arms up his back, underneath the warmth of his jacket, kneading the spare flesh beneath his thin jumper. He groaned into her mouth and she opened to him, giving him everything he sought, willing him know that she would always be there to take his hand in the darkness. The kiss softened, though he still cradled her closely. His lips caressed hers, and she felt a shudder rack through him as his hold on her tightened. Then his lips were releasing hers, slowly, gently. He rested his forehead against her own, both of them breathing unevenly. She felt the slightest brush against her mind, soothing her raw confusion, an apology for his uncontrolled hunger. His thumb passed in a similar apology across her bruised lips.

He pulled back slowly, eyes closed. She could see him reconstructing the mask of the genial, manic Doctor as he did so. She wanted to tell him to stop, that the pretense wasn't necessary, but she remained quiet. She sensed that for him it was. His hands slid from her hair as hers dropped to his waist. He grasped one of her hands tightly in his, the only remaining indication of the need he'd just assaulted her with. His eyed opened. The familiar wide grin split his features and he looked between her and Mickey as if he hadn't just been snogging her senseless two seconds before.

"Right. We're off," he began striding back towards the control room, "I've had enough of this place to last a lifetime – and that's saying something coming from me. Up we go, into the TARDIS with the both of you. We have places to go, adventures to enjoy, Time Keys to recover, monsters and aliens to run from," he ushered them back along the corridors towards the TARDIS. Mickey stalked ahead of them, radiating disapproval. Rose was content to be led in the Doctor's wake, taking comfort that despite his complete change in demeanor and his apparent determination to ignore the event of the kiss, he still clutched her hand like a drowning man.

--------------------------------

Author's Note: For those wondering how long the Doctor had to wait to make it back to the ship, he mentions in _The Unquiet Dead_ that he dumped tea during the Boston Tea Party. That would have been in 1773, making it 14 years. Originally, I was going to be really mean and make him wait to use the TARDIS left in the woods near Paris by his first incarnation during "The Reign of Terror" story arc. **That** would have been in 1794, which means that he would have had to putter around the Continent cooling his heels for about 35 years. I decided that there's only so much angst that a Time Lord can take, so I went easy on him. Still, 14 years is a lot of time to reflect on what Rose means to him. Lot of time to miss her, and to plan just how thoroughly he was going to snog her when he saw her again (I hope the snogging was thorough enough. There would have been more, but Mickey was there. I don't think the Doctor does audiences any more than he does domestic).


	12. Third Time's the Charm?

**Ch. 11 – Third Time's the Charm?**

Finally. Cornwall.

Rose took a deep breath of the chill morning air and gazed out the door of the TARDIS on an expanse of gray-green moorland. Mist still covered the ground in patches, and she could feel the moisture beading on her skin and hair. Being a Londoner, she couldn't really identify any of the various scents on the air, but the romantic in her imagined there was peat and gorse, heather and broom. Underneath it all she detected the briny scent of the nearby ocean. She took another deep breath.

After so many missed tries, she was actually rather surprised to be standing in this place – Boscawen Moor, 1978, the Doctor had informed her and Mickey before motioning for them to disembark – but the vista of a southern English landscape complete with a ring of standing stones in the distance left no doubt that this time they'd hit their mark.

Mickey poked her from behind, "Quit blocking the door. Some of us might want to get outside and stretch our legs a bit."

Rose obligingly moved out of the doorway and up the gentle slope they'd landed on. Mickey emerged to stand beside her, surveying the countryside with a less-than-impressed air. She wanted to feel superior, but as impressive destinations went she had to admit that 1978 Cornwall was even less thrilling than 1869 Cardiff.

They both turned to the Doctor, who had shut the TARDIS door behind him and was looking around with satisfaction, as if bucolic country vistas were his greatest delight. His gaze slid past her with a minute flicker. She sighed in exasperation.

He'd been doing this since they returned to the TARDIS the previous evening after their adventures on the time-portal ship. Once he had taken them back into the Time Vortex, he'd shoo'ed her and Mickey out of the console room, claiming the need to run a complete systems check. She knew he'd already done one just the previous night, but she left willingly because she realized that for him it had been much longer. She rationalized that she could wait until after his reunion with the TARDIS to continue their own reunion. Far be it from her to come between a Time Lord and his sentient, living time machine.

But she'd waited the night and he'd never come to see her. She fell into a fitful doze, waking every five minutes or so in case she had missed his soft knock on her door. He never came. She'd shuffled into the food preparation area the next morning to find the Doctor and Mickey bent over an array of mechanical parts that had once been the self-heating kettle. Their explanation that they'd been trying to figure out why the appliance was making a strange buzzing noise hadn't mollified her any. The Doctor and Mickey were laughing together. The Doctor and Mickey were **bonding**.

That was when she realized that he was determined to act as if the kiss had never happened.

Grumbling about not even getting a decent cuppa to make up for her sleepless night, she stomped back to her room to throw on clothes for their third try at Cornwall. As she'd left the food preparation area, the Doctor had the gall to suggest that she make sure to wear sensible shoes for tramping around the moors – as if she hadn't learned by now that anyone traveling with the Doctor should always wear their best pair of running shoes.

Now he was avoiding her gaze, as she realized he'd been doing all morning. Worse, they hadn't had a moment alone when she might confront him. Mickey was there and ready when she arrived in the console room. He was coming with them now to get the Key readings, and she was certain that if she ever managed to corner the Doctor for more than a minute, Mickey would show up. He didn't want her confronting the Doctor any more than the Doctor appeared to want to be confronted. For a moment, in the beauty of the countryside, she had forgotten the frustration of the past evening, but now with the Doctor and Mickey chatting away just a little too cheerily all her irritation returned.

Fuming, she fixed her gaze on the horizon. The sun was just now cresting the stone circle, sending long shadows across the plain. She realized the Doctor was in the middle of an impromptu lecture on the stones, and as much as she wanted to tune him out, she grudgingly realized that sometimes his lectures contained necessary information that could save her life. Crossing her arms, she trudged in his and Mickey's wake as they made their way across the moor.

"So, this place must be pretty special, yeah?" Rose gestured towards the stone circle in the distance.

"Naw," the Doctor dismissed her, striking off in another direction away from the stones. "You lot love cromlechs and henges. You've been putting them up for ages on every scrap of land you can find. Make 'em out of anything, too – wood, stone, plaster, foam, cars, beer cans. Saw one out of tofu once. Kinda wobbly, as I recall."

They had crested a small rise. Below them a rough dirt track meandered across the moor. Rose was somewhat relieved to see it because the sodden ground sucked at her feet and made walking a tiring exercise. Mickey seemed to be panting from trying to keep up as well. The Doctor ignored the track, striking off in a direction parallel to it. Rose glared at him, nebulous uncharitable thoughts flitting through her mind.

Oblivious to Rose's glare, the Doctor continued to lecture without any shortness of breath, "They were falling into obscurity for a long time. Heck, the locals were tearing down the blue stones at Stonehenge to build sheep enclosures for centuries. But then a chap by the name of John Aubrey just had to go and make a big deal out of 'em. Didn't know what they were really used for so he made up a load of bunk about Druids and blood sacrifices. And you lot just gobbled it up. Suddenly every henge and cromlech had a story about young nubile females dancing naked on the Sabbath, or stones getting up to walk about on their own, and before you know it you've got tourists and pagans flooding the places, Travellers attacked by police in riot gear, the Welsh building one every year to commemorate their music festivals. Carhenge. Beerhenge. Tofuhenge."

Mickey laughed a little too heartily, trying to share in the Doctor's offhand dismissal of the monuments, "Yeah, how stupid is that? Why'd anyone believe in Druids and blood sacrifices and big slabs of stone that swan off whenever they feel like it?"

The Doctor looked non-plussed, then vaguely abashed, "Yes. Well… in this particular case they… they'd be right."

"Huh?" Mickey looked to Rose, as if to confirm with her that the Doctor was putting him on, but she just smiled wryly and shrugged. She knew the Doctor well enough to realize that he'd die before admitting that Mickey was right on something.

"That circle back there, the Nine Travellers? It picked up a couple of hitchhikers a few thousand years ago. A prisoner being transported to trial and her three cellmates. The cellmates were Ogri, from the Tau Ceti system. They're silicate sangrivores." At Rose and Mickey's blank looks he sighed and rolled his eyes, "rocks that drink blood."

It was Rose's turn to look askance, not because she thought the Doctor was having her on, but because she believed him. That didn't make it sound any less ridiculous. No matter how strange the universe seemed at times, the Doctor could always manage to make it seem a little stranger. Living, blood-drinking, space rocks on the lam in Cornwall. She didn't know why she was surprised.

"But the Key isn't with the stones, cause otherwise we wouldn't be walking away from them, so it must be with the other prisoner – who isn't a vampire rock, yeah?" Rose asked.

"Vivian Fey," the Doctor affirmed with a broad smile at her, before recalling that he was trying to avoid her. Watching him fumble with the sonic screwdriver to cover his slip improved her mood immensely, "or Senhora Camara, or the Cailleach, or Cessair of Diplos, or about a dozen other names. She's been here for thousands of years, taking new identities and living off the blood and superstition of the locals."

"So, that Aubrey fellow probably did her a favour? Kept the locals from carting off her bully-boys to make their sheep enclosures, yeah? Think he was working for her?"

The Doctor looked stunned, and for the second time that day smiled a real smile directed solely at her, "Wouldn't that be fantastic? Rose Tyler, I think you might be on to something – modern druidic practice predicated on the presence of aliens at ancient archaeological sites. Erich von Däniken might just pin a medal on you."

"Yeah, but this Aubrey chap doesn't have anything to do with what's going on now, so why are we mucking about with talking about him?" Mickey's surly question burst the bubble that had been forming around Rose and the Doctor. Their enthused grins faltered into self-consciousness. The Doctor resumed walking with Mickey in his wake. Rose followed, shooting a venomous glance at both men's backs.

"Vivian Fey and Professor Amelia Rumford are letting an old rectory just down this track." The Doctor was all business again, "The Key is disguised as the Great Seal of Diplos, big, ugly amulet that Fey always wears on a chain 'round her neck. We'll get ourselves invited to tea, then you two distract the ladies while I stand near Ms. Fey and take the readings."

"That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard. You don't seriously think that's going to work, do you?" Mickey asked before Rose could voice the same skepticism.

"Oi! You got a better plan, monkey-boy?"

"A real monkey could come up with a better plan."

"Well, let's hear it then."

While the Doctor and Mickey glared at each other, Mickey's mouth working as he tried to devise some spur-of-the-moment plan that would show up the Doctor, Rose spied a shape approaching along the dirt track.

"Uh…" she began.

"I'm waiting," the Doctor prodded Mickey, "or is that your plan? Going to gape at her like a fish?"

"I'm thinking!"

"Don't strain yourself."

"Doctor… Mickey…" Rose said with a bit more urgency.

"Oh, I see," Mickey's expression turned mulish, "get a little criticism and suddenly it's time to make cracks about human intelligence. What are you, twelve?"

"When I was twelve I could already solve differential temporal equations in up to fifteen dimensions, thank you very—"

"**Oi!**" Rose snapped sharply before they decided to whip out a ruler. Both heads pivoted and she pointedly looked down to the road. A horse-drawn buggy was making its way along the rutted track. It wasn't as fine as the equipage Queen Victoria had used, and there were no scarlet-jacketed outriders, but Rose had been with the Doctor long enough to suspect that it was the real thing rather than some anachronistic throwback – which meant that they'd missed their mark… again.

The Doctor checked his watch, rattled it, and checked it again. The irritation on his face bled away to resigned humor. Rose grinned slowly, and he quirked a smile in response.

"1874," he revealed with a shake of his head.

"Well," Rose offered with equanimity, taking his hand to lead him down towards the buggy so they could interrogate the locals, "at least we haven't been exiled yet."

--------------------------------------------------

The buggy turned out to be owned by a Colonel William DeVries, a widower with two sons who was surveying the local area for Her Majesty's Ordnance Survey. He was letting the rectory that had been the Doctor's original destination. True to form, the Doctor had introduced them as colleagues and within ten minutes they were invited to tea. Within twenty they had discovered that the Colonel had an appointment to meet with a reclusive landowner later that day. Within twenty-one, the Doctor had managed to get himself included in the invitation.

"Mrs. Trefusis is Vivian Fey. This is fantastic! There's no way she'll suspect a thing," he explained to Mickey and Rose when the Colonel left to have the buggy prepared for his departure. Rose was glad to see that Mickey was as irritated at being left behind as she was, "I'll just toddle over there with the Colonel, pay my respects and get the readings. We'll be on our way before night falls."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Rose demanded, glaring around the cottage's cozy parlour. She could hear one of the boys – the younger one – playing upstairs. It sounded like he was bashing something to bits. She didn't know where the older one had got to, "Sit around here and babysit?"

"Look this isn't a lark. This woman is dangerous, and getting those readings…." The Doctor sighed, and a look of real worry crossed his face, "Rose, don't you see? The fact that keep getting blown off course getting here means the ripples are becoming worse. It's too important to get this done. And Vivian Fey… or rather, Mrs. Trefusis, well, it'll be difficult enough for me to get in there. She's a recluse, in more ways than one."

Colonel DeVries chose that moment to interrupt, informing the Doctor that he was ready to leave.

"Right. I'll be back before you know it. Stay out of trouble, and don't wander off." There was another moment of awkwardness as the Doctor dithered over whether to hug her goodbye. Eventually he gave her the half-hug that she usually got on first dates when they didn't go so well. She was working herself into a good head of steam over it when Mickey's incredulous words let all the air out of her.

"Does he always do that? Just swan off and leave you behind?"

"More and more," Rose sighed as she watched the Doctor drive away with the Colonel, just like he had on Zanak.

"Well, this is bollocks," Mickey muttered. Rose was inclined to agree, but wasn't sure what to do about it. She watched as Mickey, never happy to just sit around on a sofa if there wasn't a match on, fidgeted for a few moments. She knew him so well that he stood up only a few seconds after she predicted he would, "I'm not going to just sit down here and wait. I'm going to go see if that kid upstairs knows anything fun to do around here."

"What, like the Victorian equivalent of a Gameboy?" Rose teased in spite of her foul mood.

"Naw, I was thinking more like an iPod. Download all the hot nineteenth-century tunes."

"Go on with you then." Rose gave him a light swat, "I'm going take a turn in the garden."

"Ooh, look who sounds like the lady of the manor."

"Oh, shut-up," she grinned. Mickey bowed low before bounding upstairs. Rose's smile quickly dimmed as she stepped outside. It was mid-morning at this point, and the early chill had been burned off by an unusually warm sun.

The rectory garden wasn't large. Within ten minutes, Rose had paced its length three times. She settled on a bench next to an old, gnarled yew. It had grown so large that its branches hung over the high garden wall and its roots pushed against the old limestone blocks at the base.

She didn't know what to do. It was like, ever since the Game Station, she'd been demoted from companion to inconvenient-but-necessary tag-along. He wasn't being callous about it, exactly, but the Doctor had begun to push her away, to leave her behind. Even when there were flashes of the old camaraderie, like this morning, he shut them down before they could take root.

It was more than just intimacy issues; it had to be. She knew he was more worried about the ripples than he let on. She knew he was afraid of losing her. But she wondered if he realized that he already was, by the simple expedient of him pushing her away.

Lost in thought, her eyes meandered over the twisted trunk of the yew, seeing shapes where there were none. There was a carousel pony in a top hat. Above it was a football-playing Slitheen. If she squinted just right, the huge rough patch just at eye level resolved into the shape of a—

"Rose? You're her, aren't you?" said a young voice from above her. With a start, Rose looked up. Balancing among the upper branches of the tree was the Colonel's older son. She hadn't even noticed him when she sat down.

"Oh. Hello there." Rose blinked up, not sure what to say, "You're Tommy, right?"

"Thomas," he corrected, swinging down a few branches to get a closer look at her. He was pale and spindly – sickly, the Colonel had informed them – but he seemed perfectly at ease amongst the branches. She suddenly was grateful for the Doctor's absence. She didn't think she could stand another derogatory primate reference.

The boy looked more closely at her, then pulled back, nodding, as if he'd confirmed something for himself, "You're her. I knew it. I knew you'd come someday."

"What? Her who? What do you mean?" Rose shook her head in confusion, sure she'd missed something. Thomas dangled from the lowest branch and dropped to the ground with a soft thump.

"Her. Rose. The Traveller's Rose." He pointed to the rough patch on the yew trunk that she'd been staring at moments before. Sure enough, it did vaguely resemble a rose in full bloom. She couldn't grasp the significance.

"I… " she began slowly, "my name **is** Rose, but—"

"And you travel with him. The Doctor fellow. I didn't see it at first, cause the Colonel always has doctors out to see me, for my health." He grimaced, as if it were the greatest of humiliations.

"The Colonel… you mean, your dad?"

The boy's grimace turned to derision, "S'not my dad. My mum married him after my dad died, and then she died."

"I'm sorry," Rose offered awkwardly, "about your mum and dad, I mean."

Thomas shrugged and sat next to her on the bench, feet swinging. He was still staring at her face with a peculiar intensity. She found it hard to sit still under his scrutiny.

"What did you mean, about me and the Doctor," she asked, hoping to distract him.

"It's just like in the journals – my grandfather's journals. He wrote about a bea—er…" The boy blushed and looked away, "b-blonde girl named Rose, and her companion, the Doctor, and how they looked out for our family and came to help us in times of trouble."

Thomas brightened and looked back up, all bashfulness forgotten, "Is that why you're here? To help me? Am I in trouble?" He seemed inordinately enthused by the prospect, as only a ten-year-old boy could be. He didn't notice Rose's frown as a knot of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Uh… well, I'm betting if your grandfather's journals talked about us, then they mentioned how I can't really say why we're here, yeah?" Rose extemporized.

The boy nodded, but it didn't assuage Rose's fears any. She knew she was treading on dangerously shifty time-paradox ground. She wished the Doctor were here.

"What… what do you know about how we helped your family back then?" she ventured, hoping the answer wouldn't cause a rift in space and time.

"Oh, same old thing about stupid old Boscombe Hall." He pulled a face, "My mother's family has a claim or something, and I'm the last of the line. That's why the Colonel keeps trying to meet with old lady Trefusis; he's trying to recover my _legacy_. As if I care." He crossed his arms, all petulant indignation, "I suppose that's why the Doctor went with the Colonel? To help him? But old Trefusis won't budge any more than that Brazilian lady did back in my grandfather's day."

"Brazilian lady?" The knot in her belly was reaching out to take over her whole body.

"Yeah," Thomas responded, unaware of her distress. "Senhora… Camembert… or something."

"Camara," Rose corrected automatically, glad she'd paid attention to the Doctor's lecture. Her mind was already racing to the ramifications. They'd been here before – in their future. The boy knew who they were; he knew they were coming. And if he knew, then so did their quarry.

But the Doctor didn't have a clue.

And Vivian Fey was dangerous, he'd said.

"MICKEY!" she yelled, springing from the bench and racing towards the house. Thomas trailed behind her, face alight with the excitement of it all.

"Mickey!" she called up the stairs.

"Oi!" his face popped around the stairwell, "What're you making a row about?"

"It's the Doctor. He's in trouble. He needs our help." She begged with her eyes for him not to waste time with a fuss. The matter was too urgent for his usual petulant jealousy.

"Right," he nodded decisively. "Well, I guess we'll just have to go and save him." To her surprise, a wide smile split her friend's face. "Now we'll see who the tin dog is!"


End file.
